


Take a Chance

by brigid1318



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (Comics)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Love at First Sight, Personal Growth, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Suicide of an Antagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-10-09 14:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 86
Words: 144,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17408540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brigid1318/pseuds/brigid1318
Summary: Dr. Hank McCoy, resident shut-in at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, is persuaded (i.e. told) by his friend Charles to get out more. Little did Hank know that his stop at a small cafe in Salem Center would change his life forever and set him on the path to becoming a mutant rights activist. Sometimes love is all it takes to realize our own potential. Set post-First Class AU. Originally posted on fanfiction.net.





	1. First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this after Nicholas Hoult divulged that Beast turns all fuzzy and blue when he gets worked up in the lead up to X-Men Days of Future Past, so I thought his serum only reversed his second mutation rather than completely repressing his X-gene. And by the time I saw the movie (which was fantastic!) I liked that particular plot detail too much to change it. So that's Beast. Also, Sean is alive and Moira found her way back to Charles, because... I wanted them to? The great thing about fanfic is that I get to make the rules here!

**First Sight**

The moment I saw her, I knew I was a goner. Zoey Dubois made a place for herself in my heart the moment she stepped into Marceline's Bookstore & Cafe, and she has never left.

It was a cold late-February day in Salem Center, New York when Zoey walked into my life. It was a Tuesday, and Charles had kicked me out of the lab. He claimed that beakers and test tubes were a poor substitute for human contact. Even if I didn't speak to anyone, I had to go outside.

Outside.

For five and a half years, going outside of Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters for any reason other than missions had been an impossibility for me. I was a self-admitted recluse, unwilling to be involved in a human world where everyone would be terrified of me.

I was a mutant, see. I'd been born with huge prehensile feet that had been the bane of my existence for most of my life. They set me apart, made me stick out. As I got older it became apparent that with the feet came increased speed and agility.

All I wanted was to blend in, be normal. I wanted to be known for what I'd done, rather than what I was.

So when I got the chance to try to change, I took it. I attempted to make a serum from the genes of a shape-shifting mutant named Raven Darkholme. It should've made the physical manifestation of my mutation- and hers- disappear.

Thinking about her, even after six years, still hurt.

My serum backfired. It generated a second mutation that turned me into a monster, complete with claws, fangs, and blue fur. Outwardly, I looked like a "beast." It's where I got my code name from. And inwardly, I was just as bad. A whole new set of instincts manifested that it took years for me to repress. I was a feral mutant now.

Six months ago I made a serum that restored me to a sort of normalcy. As long as I kept calm, I looked much the same as I did before my second mutation. But any time I got angry, or felt an animalistic instinct, I burst into a huge blue monster.

Since then Charles- my mentor, and the leader of the X-Men- had been pushing me to get out more, with limited success- especially considering my fears of losing control and going into "Beast mode." The habits ingrained in me for over five years were proving difficult to break.

Hence, my presence in the cafe that day. He'd kicked me out of the laboratory and told me not to come back until dinner time, threatening mind-control if I didn't comply. I didn't honestly believe Charles would do that (he was very scrupulous in the use of his telepathy) but I didn't want to test him.

The cafe was the first place I'd spotted that I could spend some time in and go unnoticed for a while. A random decision that affected my entire life.

I bought a regular coffee (and added a ton of sugar) and sat down to read a book and people-watch. I was re-reading Mary Shelley's  _Frankenstein_. The shop was perhaps half-full.

There. I could do this.

_Look, I'm being normal._

I'd been sitting there for only fifteen minutes or so when the tinkling of the bell on the entrance door vaguely got my attention. I glanced up reflexively-

And froze.

The most beautiful woman I'd ever seen had just stepped through the door. It was as if a lightning bolt came down and struck me where I sat, or Eros had snuck up and shot me with a dart of love.

I instantly became infatuated with her as she walked by me to the counter. The way her full, cherry-red lips were curved into a sweet smile for seemingly no reason at all, how her waist-length iridescent hair curled and grazed along her delicate cheekbones, brushing against her slightly sun-kissed, flawless skin- every bit of her was utterly captivating.

"Hello, Billy. I'll have my usual, please," the girl- woman? Her age was hard to place- told the man behind the counter once she reached it.

Unfortunately her back was to me at the moment. But her voice... it was high, clear, and sweet. To my twitterpated mind it sounded like music.

"Coming right up," the middle-aged man, Billy, replied. He gave her a avuncular smile. "How's Olivia?"

"Driving her mom crazy. Same old, same old," the girl laughed. It sounded like bells. "How's Marceline?"

"She's just in the back, baking away. Same old, same old."

So she was obviously a regular customer, if she knew the owners by name and had a "usual" beverage. I wondered who Olivia was?

The girl paid with money pulled from the pocket of the rather well-used book bag she had slung over her shoulder. I found myself hoping that she would sit where I would be able to see her face.

Thankfully, she did.

After Billy had made her drink, the girl sat in a seat by the window, facing me. She took off her jacket, revealing a petite hourglass figure clothed in a long-sleeved sweater dress that highlighted her tiny waist. The weak winter sunlight streaming in caught the facets of her hair and made it look as if a halo of light surrounded her head. Like the angel she resembled.

Her face was slightly angular and heart-shaped, with an intelligent forehead and delicately arched eyebrows. The girl's hair was fascinating. Iridescent, shifting from blood red through rose gold to white-blonde, like flames dancing in the light. Her large eyes were absolutely stunning. I could see from my spot, three tables away, that they were as green as emeralds and framed by long, dark, thick lashes. So, so beautiful.

I found myself staring at her, my book held loosely in my hand and completely forgotten, while she settled in. A heavy textbook appeared on her table. I caught sight of the front as she set it down- it was a genetics text. College level. Next came a highlighter and a pen.

She was left-handed, and liked to chew on her pen caps. And play with her hair. She also crossed and re-crossed her ankles quite a bit. Even when she was trying to sit still, she was fidgety. I thought it was cute, of course. To my infatuated brain even the most mundane actions took on an enthralling quality.

Her expressions were fascinating to watch, too. Sometimes she wore a frown of concentration, but mostly that soft smile was on her face. It was like her mouth was made for smiling.

The girl sighed and looked up, her eyes sweeping the room. I was quick enough to look back at my book before she saw me staring at her, but it was a close call.

I stayed there until six, long after I had drained my coffee cup. By then I needed to leave for dinner, having fulfilled Charles' obligation for human contact. The girl was still there, studying away.

It took me less than ten minutes to run home, once I was out of sight of the town. I had just enough time to change my shoes before dinner was served.

"Ah, Hank. How'd your little adventure go?" Charles asked when I took my seat at the table.

I shrugged. "Fine."

"Was it really all that bad?"

"No..." I replied, thinking of the red-headed girl. "It wasn't."


	2. Choices

**Choices**

Charles didn't bother me the next day, leaving me to the wonderful world of science and the barely controlled - and yet utterly peaceful- chaotic sanctuary that was my laboratory and research.

The beauty of the machinery that made up our cells, the most basic building blocks of every living thing was absolutely breath-taking to me. One cell was like its own tiny galaxy, and yet it combined with others to make up tissues, and then organs, and finally organisms. So really, every organism was like a universe in itself, full of millions and millions of galaxies...

I could wax poetic about cellular anatomy for hours. Not that anyone would listen if I did.

But I hadn't reached the point where I was speaking to inanimate objects yet, so I took that as a sign that I wasn't crazy. Yet.

My nosy mentor and so-called friend clearly thought otherwise.

On Thursday afternoon Charles appeared in my laboratory once more, looking much too suave for a school master wearing a sweater and tie. Anyone else would've looked like Mr. Rogers, but not him. I blamed his sophistication on the fact that he was British. The man just couldn't help it, really.

Something about his expression made me instantly wary, so I immediately pretended to be occupied with an experiment. I hypothesized that he wouldn't bother me if I looked like I was doing something important.

"Get out of here," Charles ordered blithely, hands folded serenely in his lap.

_So much for that theory._

"I'm busy," I mumbled, not looking up from the microscope slide I was preparing.

"Hank-"

"I just went out the other day," I argued, like a petulant child.

"And you said it wasn't all that bad," Charles said patiently.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I feel the urge to repeat the experience so soon," I replied.

Ok, maybe that was a bit of a lie. I wouldn't mind seeing that girl again, if she happened to be at that cafe.

Charles seemed to be aware that I wasn't being completely truthful- there wasn't much use in hiding something from a telepath, after all. His smile was rather smug.

I had a feeling he'd been keeping tabs on me while I was out in the village the other day to make sure I was alright. I couldn't decide if I was grateful for his caution or offended that he didn't trust me to not lose my self-control in public.

_Or_  maybe Charles wanted to be sure I didn't just hide out on the roof for a few hours instead of leaving like he'd told me to. There was that, too.

"Get out," he repeated, smirking.

_Option two, then._

Like I'd actually try to hide from him on the roof. Now I really was offended.

"Fine," I sighed, fully aware that he would badger me (in pure Charles Xavier fashion, all reasonable and polite- how annoying) until I gave up and left. "I'm going."

I put away the wet mount supplies and took off my lab coat while Charles waited for me to leave with an infuriatingly self-satisfied look on his face. Like he'd just taught me how to solve a difficult math problem on my own.

"Have a good time," he said cheerfully.

* * *

And that's how I found myself at Marceline's once again, grumbling to myself about prying, tea-drinking school principals who really should have better things to do other than bothering a reclusive scientist who just wanted to be left alone with his microscope.

"Just a coffee, please," I told the shopkeeper- Billy, apparently- when I got to the counter of the cafe.

"Sure you don't want a scone, too?" he said in a wheedling tone.

"No, thanks. I will take a piece of sponge cake, though," I replied.

It was the least I could do, considering the fact that I planned on sitting here for hours.

And besides, sponge cakes were like Twinkies, the most wonderful food mankind has ever come up with.

"Coming right up."

"Thank you."

I sat in the same spot as before, unable to stop myself from looking up every time a new customer entered. I was hoping the girl with the iridescent hair would show up again.

And so she did, walking into the cafe like a summer's breeze despite the fact that it was barely forty-five degrees outside.

"Hi, Billy!" she said, in that musical voice of hers.

Had she gotten prettier since the last time I saw her? It certainly seemed like it.

Instead of going to the counter to order, she went straight over to her spot by the window and set down her things. The book bag gave a rather heavy-sounding thud as it hit the ground.

"The usual?" Billy called from behind the counter.

"Yes, please," she replied with a small laugh. It sent a tingling sensation down to my toes.

I surreptitiously watched her wander over to the book section, which was actually rather large. Next time I came here I'd have to check it out- I didn't want to seem like I was some kind of creepy stalker who was following her by going now.

_Next time? I'm already planning next time?_

Grumbling internally to myself (Charles, what have you done to me?), I watched the girl bring a book over to pay for it, and her drink. I recognized the cover- it was  _The Age of Innocence_  by Edith Wharton.

_A woman after my own heart._

Once again, I spent hours alternating between reading and watching the girl with the iridescent firelight hair study, until it was time for me to go back to the Institute for dinner.

* * *

On Tuesday of the next week Charles appeared in my laboratory again, ready to kick me out.

"Charles, really-" I began to protest.

"Just go."

I rolled my eyes, but set off obediently.

Maybe I was secretly glad that I did. The girl was there again, chewing away at her ballpoint caps while she studied. I idly wondered if she'd ever had a pen explode on her from doing that. Would she be annoyed, or ruefully laugh it off? Something about the way her eyes danced made me suspect the latter...

_Oh, no. I'm staring and acting weird again._

Thankfully she didn't notice the bespectacled nerd gawking at her from across the room, being much too engrossed in the gene expression text she was currently poring over. I didn't blame her for her focus; I could certainly relate.

She was there on that Thursday as well, when she bought another book-  _Lady Chatterly's Lover,_  by D.H. Lawrence. Clearly, she had a love for the classics.

By Thursday of the next week, Charles merely had to appear in my lab for me to get ready to leave. On Tuesday of the fourth week Alex had the audacity to smirk and note that Charles definitely didn't have to try so hard any more.

Then Thursday afternoon came, and Charles did not. I waited for him to show up and tell me to leave until a quarter past four to no avail.

It was clear that from now on, the choice to stay or go would be mine. Like a fledgling bird, Charles was giving me a chance to choose to stay in the nest or jump out of it of my own accord.

Personal growth is so uncomfortable. It's oftentimes painful to tear down the walls and limitations you've created in your own head and broaden your horizons beyond what you thought yourself capable of. I suppose that's why people take drugs- it's expanding the mind without all the hard work.

And not only that, it's the people who care about you the most that can be the most demanding, especially when it comes to what is in your own best interests.

_Damn you, Charles._

The choice was mine to make that day. Stay or go.

I didn't know it at the time, but I was at the bottom of a staircase. All I could see was the first step. A simple decision- sometimes the biggest changes in your life are caused by choices that seemed inconsequential at the time.

Stay or go.

I wanted to see her again.

So I went.


	3. A Small Exchange

**A Small Exchange**

It was the next Thursday when I actually spoke to her for the first time.

Don't be getting ideas of envisioning me plucking up my courage and going over to ask if I could take a seat with her and talk, because that's definitely not how it happened. We're speaking of baby-steps here, people. I could never be so bold.

No, I was quite content to admire the girl with the iridescent hair from afar. If I had literary aspirations, I would liken myself to Dante or Petrarch. The nameless redheaded girl would be my Beatrice, my Laura. She would be my muse, an angel I wrote verses about to laud over her great beauty and numerous virtues.

But I wasn't a poet. I was a lonely mutant scientist with a staring problem and a furry blue feral alter-ego. Not exactly the stuff of romance.

So instead I just watched her.

I'd gathered that the girl with the firelight hair bought new books on Thursdays, always setting down her things and greeting Billy before heading straight for the bookcases to choose that week's purchase. I'd watched her get  _White Fang,_  by Jack London the week previously, and before that  _Brideshead Revisited_ , by Evelyn Waugh.

There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to her purchases, which made me think perhaps she was like me- willing to read essentially anything I could get my hands on, simply for the joy of vicariously getting new experiences through the characters. All without walking out the mansion's front door.

Was a deep love of literature something we had in common? I liked to think so.

Was I becoming some kind of creepy stalker by watching her so intently? Surely a real stalker doesn't  _know_  he's being creepy, right?

But anyway, I arrived at the cafe that Thursday and ordered my coffee and sponge cake as was becoming my usual- though I knew full well that the combination of caffeine and sugar would keep me up well past midnight. Once I set my purchases down at my table I wandered over to the bookstore section of the shop to take a look around.

The selection was fantastic, and the sight of so many books surrounding me filled my soul with the sort of peace I usually only found in my laboratory, or the Institute's prodigious library. I plucked one book after another off the shelves, weighing the merits of each and having a hard time choosing just one.

I was leafing through a copy of  _A Room with a View,_ by E.M. Forster, deciding on whether I should buy it or not, when the redheaded girl breezed into the cafe.

Cue instant panic. I knew what she was going to do next, after all. I almost dropped the book and ran for my chair, but apprehension locked my muscles in place.

Like she had for the past month, the girl set her things down and went straight for the bookcases, where I stood frozen like a mutant popsicle.

What could I do? There was no escape. She'd come five minutes early, so I wasn't in my "spot" yet.

For lack of anything else, I quickly looked down at the book like I was reading it intently. In reality my eyes were taking in nothing- I was too busy listening for her, the soft  _tap-tap_  of her boots on the vinyl flooring.

I almost bolted when she entered the same aisle as me, but some semblance of higher brain function kept me from moving. Otherwise I really  _would_  seem crazy. Now the girl was on one end of a bookcase, and I on the other. I watched her intently from the corner of my eye.

She was straining to see the titles on the top shelf, which was much too tall for her rather diminutive height. Now that I was standing near her I could tell that she was only 5'3 at the most. At 6'3, I towered over her by a solid foot.

"Aha!" she murmured, as if she'd found what she was looking for.

The girl reached, stretched out, and even hopped, but couldn't quite get her fingers on the book she'd picked out for this week's selection.

It was actually quite adorable. She was just so cute... and pretty... and short. Clearly, she was having an issue right now.

The fact that she was in need finally prodded me into action.

_I can do this. I can speak to her. I can. I think._

"C-can I help you grab something?" I asked nervously.

_Great. Since when do I stutter? Pull it together, McCoy._

She turned to me, looking relieved, and smiled up into my eyes. I almost fell over from shock, even as warmth spread through my body down to my fingers and toes. Her teeth were perfectly straight and white, and she had the cutest dimples. Like she could be a model in a toothpaste commercial.

I couldn't believe she was smiling at me.  _Me._

"Please?" she asked, blushing prettily.

The flushed color was beautiful on her skin. I had to blink a couple times to focus.

"Which one did you want?"

Thank God I'd been able to speak properly.

" _Les Fleurs du mal,_  please," she replied, pointing.

It was a collection of poetry by Charles Baudelaire, a French poet. His work had been translated into English several times, but she wasn't asking for that version. She'd specifically asked for the French edition.

She must be able to speak French, then. Interesting.

I tentatively stepped closer, going slow because I was still used to being a huge blue behemoth whose sudden movements tended to frighten and intimidate people.

When I was right next to her I easily reached up and grabbed the book off the shelf for her. I handed it to her carefully.

I was close enough to her that her scent wafted into my nose. She smelled wonderful, like apple blossom, vanilla and raspberry rolled into one. What a heavenly aroma- could she get any more perfect?

And she was a mutant. I could smell that (mutants smell different than humans), though I didn't know what her abilities were. How utterly fascinating.

"Thank you," she said, smiling again. She giggled softly, gesturing with her empty right hand at the bookcase. "Short people problems, you know?"

Her chuckle made me smile, though years of deeply ingrained habit made it of the closed-mouth sort. I was still used to having unnerving fangs to hide.

"I wouldn't know, really," I replied. Then I gave myself a mental high-five for thinking of that.

_Did I just make a joke?_

"No, I should think not," the girl agreed, laughing outright. Her eyes sparkled like the gemstones they resembled as she looked at me.

_Yes! I made her laugh._

_Now I should say something else. Um..._

I could see that her skin wasn't as flawless as I'd previously believed. Now that I was so close to her I could see a faint dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones, like constellations in the night sky. My stars and garters, could she get any cuter?

_Oh, no. I'm staring again. Say something else! She's talking to you, McCoy, come on!_

But my shyness had already gotten the better of me. I clammed up tight, having expended all of my courage for the day. Or the month.

How I wished for the earth to open up and swallow me.

The girl seemed to feel my withdrawal from the conversation, but thankfully didn't take offense to it. At least I hoped she didn't. Maybe she could tell I was shy?

"That's a good book," she said, gesturing to the novel from earlier still in my hand. She began to drift away towards the register, where her drink sat waiting. "Thanks again."

I waited for her to go back to her own seat- and for my breathing to calm down- before going and making my own purchase. I decided to buy  _A Room with a View_ simply because of her recommendation.

Then I sat there in my spot and mentally berated myself for acting like a deer in the headlights when she spoke to me. Why couldn't I be braver? I should've asked her name, at least, but now the opportunity was gone.

But as angry as I was with myself, in a way I still felt like I was floating on air. I made her laugh. And she'd smiled at me. I tried to give myself credit for that, at least.

It was another baby-step.

That little two minute conversation left me even more smitten with her than before. If only I knew her name...


	4. A Show of Appreciation

**A Show of Appreciation**

I finally learned her name almost two weeks later, on Tuesday.

She walked into the cafe that day with a guest- a little girl, who had to be only seven years old at the most. I deduced that they were related, if the platinum blonde color of the child's curly hair was any indication. It was the same shade as the older girl's hair in certain lights.

"Hi, Mr. Billy," the little girl said brightly. Her voice was chirpy, like a bird.

"Hello, Miss Olivia. Marceline, guess who's here?" Billy called out to the back, smiling broadly at the newcomers like a doting uncle.

"Who?" came a muffled female voice.

"Zoey brought in Miss Olivia to see us!"

Zoey, her name was Zoey. Finally, the object of my affection had a lovely name to match her perfect face. Not that I would actually use that information for anything, but it would still be nice to refer to her by name in my daydreams.

"Hi, Ms. Marcy!" Olivia, the little girl, called.

A middle-aged woman with a kind-looking face stepped out from the back- Marceline, obviously, looking very happy to see the child. The two shop owners came around the counter to greet the little girl while Zoey leaned against the counter out of the way, smiling that soft smile of hers.

"Oh, look at you! You get prettier by the day!" Marceline gushed, kneeling down for a hug. She spoke with a rather strong French accent.

"You're getting tall, kid," Billy noted, ruffling Olivia's curls good-naturedly.

"Are you going to want some brownies today?" the older woman asked. There was an almost mischievous-looking gleam in her eyes. For some reason that made me like her.

Olivia looked at Zoey hopefully for confirmation.

"That's the plan," Zoey laughed. "What kind of aunt would I be if I didn't send Livie back to her mom loaded with sugar?"

"Well, then. We aim to please!"

After some to-do, aunt and niece ended up in Zoey's usual table. Soon Olivia was coloring with crayons in a coloring book her aunt pulled from her aged book bag, and Zoey was reading from her genetics textbook again.

Zoey let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her forehead after over an hour of reading. Her eyes swept the room, the way people sometimes do when they need a break from whatever they're thinking about.

I quickly stuck my face in the book I was pretending to read to hide my staring.

I wondered if Zoey was having difficulties with a certain subject. I imagined myself going over to her table, introducing myself, and asking if she needed some assistance.

And then my head would explode. I could never, _ever_ be that brave. Especially considering what happened last time I spoke to her...

I glanced back over in time to see Zoey give her niece a fond smile and go back to concentrating on her textbook with renewed gusto.

"Daddy says you're never going to catch a man if you keep this college nonsense up," Olivia suddenly remarked in her chirpy little bird voice. She had been incredibly well-behaved thus far, despite the brownie she scarfed down earlier. Perhaps the sugar high would come later.

Her aunt froze. I surreptitiously watched as Zoey's expression become rather glacial. Her green eyes turned emerald-hard and her jaw tightened.

She was still pretty, even when she was angry.

"Maybe I'm not worried about catching a man, Livie," she said, after a short pause. "But why does your daddy think that?"

I didn't mean to listen to their conversation, but my hearing was so sensitive I couldn't help it. There were only four other people in the tiny shop, besides the owners themselves.

_Add eavesdropping to my sins as well, I suppose._

"He says that boys don't like it when girls are smarter than them," the child replied simply.

Zoey snorted. Her mouth opened to say something, but she closed it quickly. Probably realizing that there were certain things an aunt should not say to her niece about her parents.

"Your daddy is entitled to his own opinion," she said finally, in a measured voice.

There was no other chance for their conversation to continue, because a curly-haired, platinum-blonde woman entered the shop at that moment. It could only be Zoey's sister, Olivia's mother. Her curls were much tighter than Zoey's gorgeous flame-like mane. It left me with the impression that this woman was perpetually frazzled.

"Livie, time to go darling," the woman said, catching sight of the pair by the window. "Thanks for watching her, Zoey."

"Any time, Chloe," her sister replied, with a half-hearted wave.

She seemed rather out-of-sorts now, having heard what her brother-in-law's opinion of her schooling was. I felt for her. It's not easy to be a constant disappointment to your relatives simply because of who you are.

Olivia gave her aunt a hug and a kiss, and Chloe patted her sister on the shoulder. Then they left, with the child chattering on and bouncing away at the speed of light.  _There's_  the sugar high I was expecting.

Apparently the good behavior was only reserved for Zoey. No wonder she'd told Billy that Olivia drove her mother crazy.

Zoey sank back in her chair once they were gone, looking disconsolate.

Apparently I hadn't been the only eavesdropper in the shop.

_I'm not saying it excuses my behavior, but... ok, maybe I am._

"Mr. Grey is wrong, Zoey," Billy said, leaning on the counter to see her. She looked over at him, brow furrowed. "You're only just turning nineteen and you're already almost done with a doctorate in genetics. Your father would've been so proud of you. Any man will be lucky to have you."

That one little statement told me quite a bit, considering how eager I was to glean any information I could about her. Zoey was a child prodigy, a genius- and her area of study was the same as mine. And, sadly, it sounded like her father was dead.

She smiled at the man, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks, Billy."

* * *

By the next Tuesday it had been two months since I started going to Marceline's. It did not go unnoticed.

"Where is it that you've been going all this time?" Sean asked at dinner that night.

"A coffee shop in the village," I replied uneasily.

"Why though?"

"Charles wants me to get out more," I said, glancing over at my mentor with a reproachful glare.

He grinned broadly, my annoyance rolling off of him like water off a duck's back. Self-satisfied, meddlesome-

"What's so special about that place, though?" Alex pressed.

_Uh oh. Do we really have to go into this right now? Let's just not talk about it._

My ears started getting hot, a sure sign that I was turning red in embarrassment.

He smirked. "Is there a girl there, Beast?"

I blushed even more fiercely. A silent confirmation. I would've welcomed an attack by the Brotherhood at that point, in order to avoid the teasing I knew was coming.

Sean crowed. "Beast has a girlfriend!"

"I do not," I retorted. "I've barely even spoken to her."

_Oh, damnation. There I go, just making it worse._

The other two laughed heartily at my expense.

"Why don't you say something to her, Hank?" Charles asked gently. "You never know what could happen unless you try."

"You mean you've been going there all this time to just sit and watch her? Jesus, Beast," Alex snorted, shaking his head.

"Shut up, Havok," I snapped. I felt the shimmering heat pass over my limbs that warned me an attack was coming on.

"Enough," Charles ordered, when it looked like Alex was going to reply. He turned to me, looking quite serious. "You know, Hank, in a world that's gone mad, sometimes it's best to grab onto the chance at happiness and never let go."

He looked at Moira, sitting on his right, with love evident in his eyes. Not for the first time, I felt a spark of envy.

Men who preached nothing but compassion and love were getting shot by lunatics and there was rioting in several cities across the United States, but Charles and Moira had each other.

I wished I had someone like that.

* * *

Later that night I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to compare the clusters of spots I found there to a certain redheaded girl's freckles. I couldn't fall asleep, courtesy of the coffee and spongecake I'd had at Marceline's earlier.

And it didn't help that my mind was racing, whirling away at Charles' hokey words of wisdom.

"Say something to her," my mentor said.

I didn't think I was brave enough for that. Jumping off of buildings, facing down the Brotherhood and Friends of Humanity members was no problem. Just the thought of speaking to a beautiful woman, though, had me on the verge of an anxiety attack.

After all, Zoey was intelligent, and beautiful, and kind. What on earth would she want with someone like me- especially the  _real_  me?

But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if there was some way I could reach out to her anyway-  _without_  taking a big risk. A small baby-step that was better than simply watching her all the time and doing nothing about it.

And then it hit me. Zoey had people in her life telling her that no man would be interested in her, because she was too smart. Maybe I could show her otherwise...?


	5. Secret Admirer

**Secret Admirer**

I didn't implement my new plan immediately. It took me until the next Tuesday before I gathered my courage enough to take action.

"Good afternoon," Billy greeted me as I strode up to the counter at Marceline's.

"Hello," I replied, as eloquent as always.

_Loquacious, I am not._

"The usual?"

I smiled a little- apparently I was a regular here at this point, too. "Yes, please."

He went about pouring my coffee while I waited and found it within me to finally speak up. This vague idea I had required Billy's cooperation, and I wasn't quite sure how to go about asking for it.

"That'll be thirty cents," Billy said cheerfully.

I promptly held a dollar out for him.

"Um... the redheaded girl who comes in here so often?" I began, making it sound like a question.

I didn't want to be too creepy and admit that I already knew her name. Idly, I noted that Charles' efforts to make me go out and have normal social interactions with other people had only resulted in me being even more strange. The irony did not escape me.

_The joke is on you, Charles._

Billy looked at me sharply, pulling me out of my rather uncomfortable musings. "Zoey Dubois? What about her?"

"This is for her drink too," I said in a rush, before I chickened out. I felt my ears burning in embarrassment, anyway.

The man's eyebrows raised, and he smiled a little. Or maybe it was a smirk in response to how nervous I was.

"And who should I say her mocha is from?" he asked politely.

"Please, don't tell her," I practically begged him.

_Seriously. Please don't._

"Why not?"

_Crippling shyness and self-esteem issues? I'd rather anonymously show her my appreciation than risk my heart getting stomped into the dirt again?_

After all, no relationship was ever going to work for me. I was always at the risk of turning into a furry blue monster at the most inopportune moments. And my track record with women wasn't exactly sparkling.

"Just don't let her know who it was from, please," I repeated lamely, shaking my head to ward off thoughts of Raven.

Billy stared at me for so long I began to feel the urge to tell him to forget about it, but he finally nodded. "Fine."

"Thank you," I replied, feeling relieved. "Keep the change."

Soon enough it was four o'clock, and Zoey was stepping through the door. She was like clockwork, very punctual. I wondered how long after six (when I left) she stayed at the cafe?

It took every ounce of my self-control not to get up and walk out, for fear of her reaction. There was so much riding on this for me.

I focused on pretending to read  _A Room with a View_  as Zoey entered the cafe. It was a good book, though I was having trouble with it at the moment simply because of nerves. It seemed I never got any reading done when she was around.

"Hi, Billy," Zoey said, walking up to the counter.

"Hello, Zoey," he replied genially. "The usual?"

"Yes, please."

She went to reach for her money out of her book bag. Left hand side pocket. Not that I'd been paying attention or anything.

"No charge for you today. Your drink's already been paid for," Billy told her with mock-solemnity.

Her hand froze, and her head jerked up to look at him. "What?"

"I said, your mocha has already been paid for," he explained, trying not to smile.

"You don't have to do that, Billy. You know I have no problems paying here," Zoey scolded lightly, pushing her quarter towards him on the counter.

"It wasn't me," Billy replied mischievously. He certainly looked like he was enjoying this too much. "Someone else paid for it."

"Who?"

"Can't tell you. He swore me to secrecy."

_Yup. Definitely enjoying this too much. At least I have a willing ally in this._

"'He?'" Zoey repeated, sounding dumbfounded.

Billy nodded. He grinned like the cat who'd caught the canary.

Zoey turned to visually sweep the cafe, as if doing so would give away her secret admirer. I pretended to be focused on my book, and thanked God in heaven that for once my face didn't give me away by flushing up.

I tried to see it from Zoey's point of view- who of us would be likely to do such a thing for a pretty young lady?

There were five other people in the shop, two women and three other men besides me. Two of the other males were "regulars," who always showed up on Tuesdays and Thursdays like I did. One had to be in his mid-thirties, but the other was most likely in his late-twenties. Both plausible candidates as a secret admirer. At least I had some camouflage.

Zoey seemed to agree there there was no way to tell, because she turned back to Billy with a disappointed sigh.

"Do you know why he bought this for me?" she asked curiously.

"He didn't say," Billy replied. "But I think he likes your smile."

"Keep this for a tip, then. And please tell whoever it was 'thank you,' if you happen to see him around," she said, sounding perplexed.

Despite her confused tone, her cheeks were a little pink as she took her seat, and that soft smile was pulling on her lips. She was pleased, just as I'd hoped she would be.

Her reaction encouraged me to do it again on Thursday. Billy just smirked and shook his head, but Zoey seemed very flattered again. And the following two weeks.

It was the Thursday after that- three months since I started going to Marceline's- that I put down extra money.

"This is for Zoey's mocha and any book she wants," I told Billy.

He frowned. "What exactly are your intentions with Zoey?"

I blinked.

Intentions? Did I have any intentions with Zoey at all? Not really. Doing this was all about making her smile, letting her know that someone admired her.

"I don't have any intentions," I replied honestly.

Billy glared at me. "Then why are you doing this?"

I shrugged.

_I'm shy and socially inept?_

"Don't be coy with me, kid. That girl is like a daughter to me- I held her on the day she was born," he said firmly.

_Whoa. Scary dad routine._

"I understand," I told him. "I promise you I have no ill designs on Zoey, sir. I just..."

_Watching her study has become the highlight of my week. I'm absolutely besotted by someone I've only spoken to once. Because I am a sad, sad individual._

"I think she's a lovely person. I just wanted to do something to make her smile," I explained finally.

Billy stared at me like he was trying to X-ray my soul, but then finally nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Hank McCoy," I said, holding out a hand for a polite shake.

"Billy Rivers," he said, returning the greeting. He eyed me carefully- this time his faded-blue jean colored eyes were much kinder. "Are you sure you still want to keep this secret, Hank?"

"I do. Please."

He shook his head in exasperation. "Alright, fine."

I had just enough time to get to my seat and look like I was engrossed in a book before Zoey got there. She arrived looking a little bedraggled from the rain outside.

"Hi, Zoey. How's it going?" Billy called out. I glanced up. His expression was rueful, like he already knew the answer.

She gave him a sour look. "I hate rain," she muttered. "It's the bane of the curly-haired."

He laughed, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Then she wandered over to the book shelves for her week's selection.

I waited tensely for her to pick a book and try to buy it. I wondered what her reaction would be when she found out her secret admirer had graduated to buying her books for her.

Zoey brought over  _Pride and Prejudice_  by Jane Austen and scooted the cup waiting for her closer to the edge of the counter. She reached for her money-

"Already been paid for," Billy announced smugly. Clearly, his amusement over this situation had returned.

She froze. "The book, too?"

"Yup."

Zoey sighed and fiddled with her coffee cup. "Tell him thank you from me, please."

She sat down, looking thoughtful as she pulled out her textbook and began to read. Every now and then she scanned the cafe, like a clue had escaped her and she was trying to find it again.

_I'm here._ _I think you're beautiful. If you knew who-_ what _\- was doing these things for you, you'd stop looking for me._

I felt like I was watching her from behind a thick pane of glass.

The space between a glorious being such as she and myself was just too far to cross.


	6. Olivia Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that italics without quotations are Hank's thoughts. Italics with quotations are the characters speaking in French.

**Olivia Grey**

My new little routine hit a snag the next Tuesday. It wasn't Billy behind the counter, it was Marceline.

"Good afternoon," I said politely.

"Hello, there. How can I help you,  _mon cher_?" Marceline asked.

"I'd like a small coffee and a piece of sponge cake, please," I replied.

She gave me a kind smile and set about fulfilling my order.

"Is Mr. Rivers ok, ma'am?" I blurted out.

Marceline looked startled, holding the sponge cake in a pair of tongs. "Yes, of course. My husband had a doctor's appointment today, is all. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering," I said quickly.

I pulled out my money and took a deep breath, not relishing the fact that my secret would be shared with Marceline. Billy was a safe bet now- I was sure he wouldn't tell on me. But I couldn't be sure about his wife.

"This is for mine and Zoey's," I told her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed- loudly. I winced. "So you're the secret admirer? No wonder you were wondering where Bill was, ha!"

I nodded, glancing around to make sure there weren't any interested parties nearby. "Yes, ma'am. Please don't tell Zoey?"

Marceline looked rather put out, which made my anxious. "Why don't you speak to her? I'm sure she would love to thank you in person," she coaxed.

I shook my head quickly.

"Well, fine," she huffed. Maybe she saw the panic in my eyes at the thought. "Bill said your name was Hank?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I won't tell," Marceline said, though it was obvious that it bothered her.

"Thank you," I told her, with obvious relief. "I appreciate it."

I took my coffee and sponge cake to my table to wait and pray that Marceline would keep her word about not telling Zoey who I was. I was here, among people, and reaching out in my awkward, clumsy way, but I was nowhere near ready to speak to her. I doubted I ever would be.

The object of my affection was a little late that day, and when she did arrive she had Olivia in tow.

"How's my favorite seven year old?" Marceline called from behind the counter, as soon as they walked in the door.

She immediately came around the counter for a hug, which the brown-eyed little girl ran to give her. Marceline swept the child up in a heartfelt embrace.

"Jeez, you'd think I'm chopped liver around here," Zoey griped good-naturedly. "I never get greeted like that."

"Don't be silly, Auntie, I love you too," Olivia retorted in that endearingly obtuse way only a child can have.

She ran over and hugged her aunt around her waist, nearly knocking her over.

"Ooph! Thanks, Livie," Zoey laughed, hugging her niece back.

"You're definitely better than chopped liver around here, Zoey," Marceline commented, once she was behind the counter again. Through my eyelashes I could see that she was looking quite mischievous and amused. "I met your secret admirer today."

"And you're telling me this because you're going to be nice and point him out...?" Zoey asked leadingly.

_Oh no._

I almost looked up to see if Marceline was about to rat on me, but managed to stop myself at the last second. As it was, my entire body went rigid, like my subconscious was getting ready for me to make a run for it.

"No, of course not! I'm telling you because he bought your mocha again today, and he leaves such good tips there's no point in charging you for Livie's tea or brownies," Marceline said brightly.

"That's taking advantage of his kindness, and yours," Zoey argued.

"I'm sure he won't mind. He's a very generous and polite young man."

Marceline was right in one regard. I didn't mind. I wondered why she thought that of me, though. Had I made a good first impression on her and Billy?

"You're just making this worse for me," Zoey muttered, rubbing her forehead for a moment. She did that when she was vexed. "But thank you. And tell him thank you for me as well, please."

"What's going on?" Olivia asked, in a petulant tone. She was a precocious child, and didn't like being left out.

"Your auntie has a secret admirer. Uncle Billy and I know who it is but we won't tell her," Marceline explained, pushing the brownies towards the edge of the counter where Olivia could reach.

What happened next was very quick, and if I hadn't been so focused on the conversation, watching through my eyelashes, I would've missed it.

"I'll find out for you, Auntie," Olivia said, her hand reaching out for Marceline's.

Zoey's hand darted out and caught Olivia's before she could touch Marceline.

"What did I tell you about doing that, Livie?" she asked. Her voice was quiet and firm, but the musical quality of it kept her from sounding truly stern in my opinion. I might've been a little biased, though.

"It's stealing," Olivia replied, immediately contrite.

"That's right."

And then they resumed as if it hadn't happened, shaking off the incident quickly. Aunt and niece went to sit in their spot by the window, just like they had weeks ago.

"I'm going to tell Daddy you have a secret admirer," Olivia announced quietly, after half an hour or so.

"Oh? Why's that?" Zoey asked absently, chewing on a pen cap as she peered down at a cellular anatomy text.

"Because then he'll know that boys don't just like stupid girls," the child replied proudly.

Zoey had to cover her mouth with one hand to stifle her laugh. Her thin shoulders shook with mirth, but despite her efforts her muffled giggles were still audible.

It wouldn't hurt to look at her now, would it? I risked it- she looked so pretty with her eyes lit up like that, it made me smile.

Then I looked away quickly, before I got caught.

"You tell him that, Livie," Zoey finally composed herself enough to say.

Chloe Grey walked in at that point- Olivia's mother.

"Livie, darling, time to go," she said, walking over to their table. "How was she, Zoey?"

"An angel, like always," the proud aunt replied.

"I don't understand why she behaves so well for you," Chloe grumbled, watching Olivia put away her crayons.

Zoey shrugged. "We're kindred spirits, I suppose."

I caught their goodbyes out of the corner of my eye again. Zoey took Olivia's tiny hand in hers and looked into her eyes seriously. After several seconds the child nodded.

_They're communicating telepathically._

It clicked for me then- Olivia was a mutant as well. From what I could see, she was a telepath that required tactile contact to read a person's thoughts. That's why she tried to touch Marceline to discover my identity. But while Zoey obviously knew, I wondered if her parents did?

"Good. Now give me a hug," Zoey told the little girl, smiling again. It was gladly given.

As soon as mother and daughter were gone though, the smile melted away. She put her elbows on the table and propped her head up with her fists, staring morosely at the formica surface of the tabletop.

Marceline moved in swiftly, holding two small cups on saucers, to sit in the now-vacant seat across from the young lady.

_"Some cafe au lait for ma petit?"_  the older woman quietly offered, in French. I understood her perfectly, because I'd learned French on a lark a few years ago.

_Thank goodness for too much time on my hands._

_"Is this from you or from my secret admirer again?"_  Zoey replied, with a humorless laugh. She stared out the window, looking disconsolate.

_"From me. Now talk to me, Zoey."_

Zoey was quiet for a long moment. It was tempting to look at her full in the face again, but I resisted. It was difficult not to lean towards her, just so I could hear her clearer and soak up every word she uttered.

_"I worry for Olivia,"_  she said softly- so quiet that the other patrons couldn't hear, even if they understood French.  _"Her mutation... Chloe and Nick don't understand. They pretend it's not happening, that she overhears them speaking somehow and she's just very observant."_

_"Shouldn't Chloe know better, after what happened with you?"_

_"No. She only saw the parlor tricks, so it was easy to write off,"_  Zoey replied.

A verbal confirmation of what my sense of smell had already told me weeks ago. Zoey really was a mutant.

I strained to hear more, ashamed of my eavesdropping but unable to stop myself. My ears automatically picked up the sound of her treasured voice.

_"How can I tell a child to be proud of who she is when she has to hide such a big part of herself? When I do the same? I feel like a filthy hypocrite. And what's more, how can I protect Livie from her own powers? I can't imagine what it's like, to be able to hear people's thoughts with a touch. Finding love one day... what will she do?"_

What, indeed? I empathized with Zoey for her obvious worry for Olivia. It was much the same as I saw dealt with at Xavier's every day-

Was there a way I could help her? I resolved to speak to Charles about the child, as soon as I could. Perhaps she could learn to control her tactile telepathy, with help.

The two women by the window might've spoken more, but I stood and left.

My mission was clear. I needed to speak to Charles.


	7. Trying

**Trying**

"Charles, I need to speak with you," I said, as soon as I arrived home and found my mentor.

I was home over an hour earlier than usual. I'd rushed back in my eagerness to tell Charles about Zoey's niece and see if he would possibly be able to help her learn to control her powers.

"What's wrong, Hank?" asked the surprised telepath, looking up from the papers he was grading in his study. "Did something happen?"

"No, not really," I sighed, taking a seat. "The girl I've been-"

_Stalking? Romancing from afar? Ugh, there's no way to explain this._

Charles waited patiently for me to sort myself out.

"The girl from the cafe I've been visiting is named Zoey Dubois. She has a niece named Olivia Grey, who's only seven years old. I found out today the child is a tactile telepath. Zoey's worried about her-"

"Did Zoey tell you all of this?" Charles asked shrewdly.

I cursed inwardly- he'd caught me already.

"No," I replied sheepishly.

"Have you talked to her at all?"

"Once," I said defensively.

I'd come to him about helping a little girl, and he wanted to nitpick about my social awkwardness. This was _not_ how I expected this conversation to go.

"Leave me out of this. Is there a way you can help Olivia?"

"Yes, of course, if her parents are willing. I'll find her using Cerebro straight away, if you'd like to come with me now," Charles offered, moving his motorized chair (which I designed) out from behind his desk. I stood hurriedly and followed. "Would you like to come with me and meet her parents? Perhaps her aunt could be present, as well?"

I shook my head quickly. My palms got sweaty just at the thought. "No, thank you."

He sighed. "Hank, I wish you would talk to that girl."

"To what purpose, Charles?" I argued. "I probably wouldn't even be able to  _kiss_ her without Beast taking over."

"You could be her friend, you know," he replied tartly.

"It's too late for friendship," I noted disconsolately as we got into the elevator to go down to the basement of the mansion.

My feelings had developed into something decidedly  _not_ platonic. Zoey Dubois had utterly bewitched me from the moment I first saw her, like I was a moth drawn to the flame of her firelight hair and the glowing light of her soul, which shone through her eyes. The spell had only gotten stronger every time I went to Marceline's Cafe to watch her study.

"I'm fine with things the way they are. Seeing her is enough for me, Charles."

"But is it enough for her?" he countered.

Unbidden, the memory of Zoey's wistful expression as she tried to pick out her secret admirer from among the patrons at the cafe flashed before my eyes. It sent a pang of longing through my gut.

I frowned at him. "Stay out of my head," I said, sharp enough to be a warning.

"I haven't been in your head for weeks, Hank," Charles replied. His eyebrows raised, and the ghost of a smile played across his face, like he was fighting off amusement.

So the vision had come from my own traitorous subconscious. Wonderful.

"I'm sorry," I told him, genuinely contrite. "Just... I'm  _trying_ , Charles."

"That you are, Hank," Charles agreed. "The fact that you're even asking me to do this tells me you've made progress. You're reaching out, in your own...  _particular_  way."

_"Particular." That's one way to put it, I suppose._

Finding Olivia Grey was a piece of cake, considering how Charles easily plucked her visage from my memories to match within Cerebro. She was also only two estates over in the rambling suburbs of Westchester County, New York. Charles promised to take Sean with him to visit the very next afternoon.

The next day I was on tenterhooks, wondering how their visit would go. Would Zoey be there? Would she come visit her niece, if the Grey's allowed their child to attend the school? If she did, would I ever find the courage to speak to her?

I agonized over the questions, though I knew I was getting far ahead of myself. Olivia's parents needed to agree for her to attend Xavier's first, and her father sounded like a real piece of work.

Charles and Sean were back quicker than I expected that evening.

"No one was home," Sean explained with a shrug.

I was profoundly disappointed. I'd worried all day for nothing. And more importantly, Olivia's problems still weren't resolved.

* * *

I was feeling rather down as I walked to the village the next day. I'd left Marceline's on Tuesday hoping that the next time I saw Zoey she would look a little happier because her niece was going to be getting the help she needed to learn to control her powers.

But nothing had changed.

I wanted to apologize somehow, even though I was too afraid to speak to Zoey. To say I was sorry that her niece was having trouble, and I was sorry that my attempt to help Olivia had thus far yielded no fruit. Maybe I wanted to apologize for not being brave enough to talk to Zoey, too.

For that reason I picked some blue primroses growing wild on the side of the road on my way to Marceline's. I tied them with a stem of grass.

It seemed like a paltry offering, but at least they were something.

I placed them on Zoey's table when I walked in the door. Billy was behind the counter again.

"Graduating to giving her flowers, now?" the older man asked, amusement clear in his faded blue eyes.

I shrugged awkwardly. "They made me think of her," I replied, with my habitual lack of eloquence.

To my surprise, Billy rolled his eyes. "I'll have you know my wife won't stop pestering me now. 'Why can't you be more like that Hank boy? What a romantic!'" he quoted in an exaggerated French accent that I was sure his wife would kill him for if she heard. "Doesn't matter that we've been married twenty-three years, ha!"

"I'm... sorry?"

_He's teasing me, right?_

This was why it was so difficult to talk to people. Social cues were so easy to miss. Machines were much, much simpler.

"It's fine, kid. I was just joking... a little. Now, what can I get you? The usual?"

"Yes, please."

"And Zoey's?"

"Yes. And her book."

"You got it."

And then I settled down to wait.

I wondered how she would react to the flowers. Doing these things for her was like a human experiment that I was emotionally involved in. Being so caught up in the results made it both painful and wonderful when I got a positive reaction.

Since it was Thursday, Zoey went straight to her table to put her things down, rather than the counter to buy her mocha. She froze, her back to me, when she saw the little bouquet of primroses.

"He said they made him 'think of you,'" Billy offered, leaning on the part of the counter closest to her table.

She picked the primroses up delicately, as if she was afraid they'd break. "They're my favorite flower," she said quietly. "I wonder how he knew?"

_Score one for dumb luck, I guess._

"I'm pretty sure it was a lucky guess," Billy replied, taking in my overjoyed expression. It was safe, because Zoey couldn't see who exactly he was looking at.

"Yeah," she murmured, holding the flowers to her nose. Then she set them down with infinite care. "Lucky."

She turned to Billy. "Tell him thank you, please?"

"Will do."

Zoey was soon at the counter with a new book-  _Jane Eyre._

"Paid for," Billy said smugly, pushing her money away. Yes, he was definitely enjoying this.

"Oh. Please-"

"Thank him? I will, Zoey. Now go study. Your final paper is nearly due, isn't it?"

"Three weeks."

"Knock 'em dead."

"Thanks, Billy," she replied with a laugh.

She sat down with her mocha and new book, which she ignored in favor of another genetics text. Every now and then she would glance at the flowers and flush prettily, a small smile playing across her lips.

Honestly, that was all I was looking for. I just wanted to see her smile, and know that I had done something to put that expression on her face.

I knew better than to ask for more.

But Zoey Dubois disagreed.


	8. A Birthday Surprise

**A Birthday Surprise**

The next Tuesday, which happened to be my twenty-third birthday, was a very happy day for me. Without even knowing it, Zoey gave me the best present I would ever receive.

Charles and Sean had still been unsuccessful in catching the Grey's at home, which was a disappointment, but considering the other events of the day it was easy for that short-coming to slip my mind because Zoey wrote me a letter.

I'd already bought my own drink- and paid for hers- when she walked in. Like clockwork. There were more flowers waiting for her at her table. I'd decided to get her more because she seemed to like them so much.

"Hey, Billy," Zoey said, sounding a little nervous.

"Afternoon, Zoey. Bought and paid for," he told her, scooting her already-made mocha forward.

"What would the two of you do if I decided to change it up and order something else?" Zoey asked sourly.

"Well, I don't think Ha- he would mind, but I would have an extra mocha laying around," Billy mused easily.

Meanwhile, I had a coronary because he'd almost said my name. That was much too close. I scowled at my book.

_Get it together, Billy!_

Zoey snorted, and then seemed to recover herself. It seemed she hadn't noticed Billy's slip.

"Would you give this to him when you see him, please?" she requested, holding out a neatly folded sheet of paper.

My heart sank. Was this a written request to leave her alone, to stop doing these things for her? What would I do with myself then?

"Sure. What's it say?" Billy joked, pretending like he was going to open it.

"Don't you dare," she threatened flatly.

"I won't, don't worry. Marcy would kill me if I did," he laughed, half-serious. "But tell me something, Zoey. You're not letting the kid down easy, are you? Telling him to stop with all this? Because I promise you, he doesn't mean any harm by it."

The note fluttered between his fingers. His concern for my feelings warmed my heart somewhat.

"After all these years of marriage, you still don't understand women at all," Marcy's voice griped, before Zoey could reply. The older woman had appeared in the doorway to the back room, with crossed arms and a reproving look aimed at her husband.

Zoey laughed. "Just give it to him, please," she told Billy, and then she went to sit down.

Her smile got even wider when she propped the flowers I'd gotten her up where she could glance over and see them. She seemed to be almost vibrating with nervous energy, wondering how her letter to her secret admirer would be received.

I, meanwhile, was fighting to stay in my seat. I felt like a child being told to wait on Christmas morning, though all the while I knew that there were presents in the living room just waiting for me.

Billy, the sly dog he was, made a motion to show that he was placing the letter on the counter closest to the bathroom, where I could pick it up surreptitiously. Thankfully Zoey didn't appear to notice- she was back in the magical world of cellular mechanics, playing with her hair.

I nodded slightly, to show Billy that the message had been received.

I waited until another customer got up for a refill to grab the letter meant for me. Instead of hiding in the bathroom to read, I hid among the bookshelves, unable to allow myself to wait until I went home.

_"Dear-_

_You know, I don't know what to call you? I suppose 'my secret admirer' would work but it sounds so corny._

_I'm writing you this letter because I wanted to thank you myself for the sweet things you've been doing for me. I don't understand how exactly I got your attention, but it's very flattering, to say the least. On no account should you feel obligated to continue, though should you chose to do so you have my sincere thanks._

_When you first started buying my mochas for me I felt this insatiable curiosity to find out who you are. And though I still wish that you would reveal yourself, this burning determination to discover your identity has somewhat passed. I have my suspicions, which I will not share here for fear of guessing incorrectly and hurting your feelings, but I think I understand now why you refuse to divulge who you are._

_As long as we continue like this, you can be my fairy tale prince, and I your princess. We can build castles in the air about each other and dream of a happily ever after (where my prince is frustratingly nameless and faceless) as much as we want. But if we were truly to meet, what then? I have a secret, my admirer, that could make you turn away in fear and loathing. And if you did, where would we both be afterwards? Our fantasy crushed, the fairy tale left with an unsatisfying end. Can we both agree that this strange 'relationship,' of sorts, means something to both of us?_

_But while I understand this, should I even be right in my analysis of your motives, I still want to meet you. Because what if you are everything I hope you to be, and I am for you? It's a chance worth taking, don't you think?_

_Feel free to write me back, if you'd like. Or speak to me...? You know where I'll be every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. I would love to hear anything you're willing to share about yourself. And again, thank you for your kindness._

_Sincerely,_

_Zoey Dubois"_

A wide, stupid-looking grin spread across my face. This was the best birthday present ever.

I knew without stopping to analyze it that I would treasure that letter for the rest of my days. Zoey understood, at least to some extent, my reasons for not revealing myself to her. She was so clever, so compassionate...

I immediately began to formulate my response in my head. How could I resist this opportunity to "speak" to her, after a fashion- and in a way that wouldn't make my head explode with nerves? I would be able to think over my answer in plenty of advance.

It didn't even occur to me to  _not_  reply to Zoey's attempt to reach out to me. Of course I would write back to her. My eagerness was another sign of the progress I'd made. Another baby-step.

The letter was placed into my pocket with care, and then I went back to my table. I wondered who of the possible candidates she thought her admirer was? The idea that she knew it was me was too much to hope for.

* * *

There must have been an extra spring in my step when I went back home for dinner. It did not go unnoticed.

"Something's different," Charles remarked after everyone had wished me "happy birthday," much to my chagrin. I hated being the center of attention.

I sat down at the dinner table with a heaping pile of pot roast feeling very red in the face. Moira gave me a reproving look, like any good maternal figure would do, for having no vegetables on my plate. I grinned at her, feeling uncharacteristically playful.

_It's my birthday. I could eat cake for dinner if I wanted to._

"Did you speak to Zoey today?" Charles guessed, seeing my light-hearted expression.

"No."

"Then what's with the dazed and confused look?" Alex asked.

I frowned. "'Dazed and confused?'"

"No, that's not right. He looks happy. And that's just weird for Beast," Sean (resident expert on 'dazed and confused' due to his previous pothead persona) commented. "He's usually all broody and stuff."

_My friends, I tell you._

"Thanks," I said sardonically.

"What happened today, Hank?" Charles pressed.

"She wrote me a letter," I replied reluctantly, knowing I was about to get teased mercilessly. My buoyant feeling was very much in danger of evaporating.

Alex snorted. "Beast, you're so-"

"I'd advise you not to finish that statement, Alex," Charles said firmly. "Now, are you going to write her back?"

I nodded, unable to stop myself from smiling at the thought. Then I became more serious. "Have you had any luck speaking to the Grey's?"

"None. I think they're on a trip of some kind. But we'll keep trying, Hank."

"Thank you."

I went to sleep with a smile on my face, my mind floating away with all the possibilities of what I would write to Zoey. I felt... hopeful. Happy.

Oh, and Sean and Alex had gotten me ten boxes of Twinkies. So it wasn't a bad birthday at all.


	9. Patience

**Patience**

I put a lot of thought into my reply to Zoey. In fact, I didn't finish it until Wednesday night, having made and discarded several drafts. The number of attempts was mostly due to content, but also in part to my horrible penmanship- I tended to write in the illegible scrawl of a doctor, something that everyone nagged me about constantly.

But finally I decided that I'd gotten it right, and neat enough to read without a decoder ring.

By the time I made my way to Marceline's Cafe on Thursday I had read and reread Zoey's letter so much that I had it memorized, sadly enough.

I wondered how she would respond to mine? Would she still want to continue communicating with me? I had to stop myself from running to the cafe in my nervous apprehension and impatience.

The first thing I did when I walked in was place my response on Zoey's table, along with a little bouquet of primroses.

"So he finally speaks, after a fashion," Billy announced when I approached the counter. He was clearly amused.

I made an exasperated face at him and pulled out some money.

_No comments from the peanut gallery, please._

"What do you do for a living, Hank?" Billy suddenly asked.

I looked at him curiously, unsure of what he was getting at. "I'm a scientist. Genetics research, mostly. Why?"

"How old are you?"

"I turned twenty-three on Tuesday," I replied, still not sure as to what he was getting at.

Billy nodded slowly, as if he was thinking about something. Then he grinned. "I'll tell Marcy. She wanted to be sure it wasn't some homeless bum that was romancing our goddaughter."

I smiled at the thought of me romancing anyone. Here I was, worried Billy would think me a borderline stalker. Apparently not.

"No, I'm not a homeless bum."

Billy made my drink, and after I paid for it, Zoey's drink, and her book I sat in my spot to wait. I wanted to see her reaction to my letter as best I could.

Her eyes were already on her table when she entered the cafe. A small gasp escaped her lips, and she immediately strode over to pick up the flowers and letter.

"Hello to you too, Zoey," Billy greeted her. He sounded like he was on the verge of laughter.

Zoey seemed to shake herself and glanced over at him. "Sorry. Hi, Billy."

"Your usual?"

"In a minute, please," she replied, shucking off her book bag and taking her seat.

And she sat down to read.

_"Dear Zoey,_

_I can't express how happy it made me to receive your letter. You wrote to give me your thanks, but the reality is, I should thank you. You see, I've always been a bit of a recluse, until my friend and mentor urged me to get out more. By random chance I stopped at this cafe, and, though the baked goods are delicious, the reason I keep coming back is you._

_Please don't think I'm a stalker, or anything of that sort. I know it sounds creepy to say that I've admired you from afar for months, that seeing you is the highlight of my week, but I promise you I have no ill intentions towards you whatsoever. Mr. and Mrs. Rivers would not allow me to live, otherwise. They both love you very much- though I think Mr. Rivers enjoys vexing you quite a bit._

_You were curious as to how I first noticed you. To be honest, it was your beauty that caught my attention in the beginning. The first time I saw you I felt like someone had hit me in the head with a two by four. But then, after watching you for a while (again, I'm so sorry for how terrible it sounds) I delighted in your kindness, and your intelligence. I recognized one of your books as a graduate-level genetics text, and Mr. Rivers mentioned that you're not yet nineteen. Beautiful and a genius? You're better than a dream, Zoey._

_As for your conjecture on my motives for remaining anonymous, you are correct- but not for the reason you may think. You say you have a secret, Zoey, but so do I. Mine is so terrible that I fear I will never be anyone's fairy tale prince, let alone yours. And a wonderful person such as you deserves a happily ever after._

_It is for that reason I am afraid of revealing myself to you. This 'relationship,' as you say, means very much to me. You have changed the world for me, simply by being yourself. I don't know what I would do, if I were to lose this._

_I ask that you allow me to continue, but if you would prefer me to stop you merely need to say the words. I would understand._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Secret Admirer"_

Zoey sighed and put the letter down. It was hard to tell what she was thinking, considering my inability to fully see her face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her sit back in her chair with her arms folded and look out the window.

"Zoey? You ok?" Billy asked, leaning against the counter on her side.

He sounded concerned- I glanced over to see him giving me a reproachful look, as if he was mentally berating me for making Zoey pout.

_What were you expecting, Billy? For me to run over and declare myself in front of the entire coffee shop?_

Zoey shrugged unhelpfully in reply to his question.

"Want to know something I learned today?" he asked leadingly.

"What?"

"Your secret admirer is a genetics scientist, too," Billy said. I had the feeling he was trying to get a reaction out of her.

Zoey let out a little huff of laughter. She sat there for perhaps thirty more seconds before standing up and walking over to the bookcases.

I glanced up to see her retreating form- she was holding a pen.

"The usual, please," she said on her way past the counter.

Zoey came back soon, holding two books and a dollar.

"Two?"

"Yes. One is for my secret admirer. Please give it to him when you get a chance," she said quietly, sliding one of her purchases towards Billy.

What book had she bought for me? I was practically itching with impatience, because I thought I wouldn't be able to get the book today. But it seemed like Zoey knew this, because she stood, collected her things, and left within half an hour.

I waited ten minutes, just to be safe, before rising and going to the counter again to collect my prize.

Billy was grinning broadly as he slid the book towards me. "This is for you, lover boy. Any idea why she bought you a book of fairy tales?"

Indeed, Zoey had purchased me a copy of  _Children's and Household Tales_  by the Brothers Grimm.

Before answering Billy I opened up the frontispiece- I had a suspicion Zoey had written something there because of the pen she carried back into the bookcases.

_"To my admirer-_

_It sounds like I'll have to convince you. But that's fine. I can be patient._

_Best Wishes,_

_Zoey"_

I smiled down at the book. It included stories like  _Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella,_   _Snow White_  and  _The Frog Prince_.

_The Frog Prince. Wouldn't it be nice if I could turn into a handsome prince if she kissed me? Is she trying to say she still thinks I could be her Prince Charming?  
_

It sounded like Zoey was going to try to convince me to speak to her. And she would be patient with me. Not only was she willing to continue this strange relationship, she wanted more.

Could I give her more?

For the first time, I found myself wondering if Zoey would be more accepting of me because she was a mutant as well. I was relatively sure that was the secret she was referring to in her letter. And even after my warning about my own secret, she was still willing to reach out to me and be patient with my crippling shyness.

Could there be a future for us?

For the first time, I allowed myself to hope.


	10. Letters to You

  **Letters to You**

On Tuesday Zoey had a letter for Billy to deliver to me. We pulled the same maneuver as before- waiting for one gentleman to get up and go to the counter, and then Billy sneaking the letter to me at some later point.

_"Dear Admirer,_

_If you hoped somehow that your warnings of a secret more terrible than my own would dissuade me from my resolve to meet you, you are gravely mistaken. The sentiments you expressed in your letter have only made me more determined to speak to you someday! But as I said, I can be patient._

_I thought I would try to tell you a little about myself. I don't know how much you know from the Rivers', or from watching me (sometimes I can feel your gaze, though I never seem to catch you. My applause to your surveillance skills), but I thought it would be a good start. Then maybe you can share something about yourself?_

_I'm eighteen years old and quite close to Billy and Marceline, if you haven't been able to guess. They are my godparents, and I feel lucky to have them. My mother was best friends with Marcy growing up in France, and my father and Billy were buddies in the 101st. They all ended up settling in Westchester County when the war ended. It's a very sweet story that I heard a hundred times growing up. I won't bore you with it now. Suffice to say that my godparents have been there my entire life, especially now that my parents are gone. My mother died when I was two. Daddy passed on last July._

_My father was the one who always told me I could be anything I wanted to be. He didn't believe in females being demure, helpless creatures. He encouraged me to go into genetics. Now I'm studying the X-gene- something I'm sure you've heard of, if Billy was telling the truth about your occupation._

_I also have an older sister, and a niece who you may have seen at some point. Olivia is seven. I love her desperately- she means the world to me. Sometimes I feel like an older sister to her, rather than an aunt because I was only twelve when she was born. I'm a terrible authority figure, but my sister Chloe still keeps asking me to baby-sit._

_I feel like I could ramble for pages on end, hoping that if I shared enough you would do the same. Please feel free to write me back. I enjoyed hearing from you immensely, warnings or not. Until Thursday..._

_Sincerely,_

_Zoey Dubois"_

It was hard to keep a grin off my face as I pocketed the letter and moved back to my table once more. Zoey was so determined and sincere- it made my feelings for her even deeper.

* * *

On Thursday my reply was waiting for her, under a bouquet of primroses on her usual table. Just like last week Zoey chose to read my letter before buying her book of the week. At least this time she remembered to greet Billy.

_"Dear Zoey,_

_I both appreciate and admire your forbearance with me. I feel it is more than I deserve. I was sorry to hear that both of your parents have passed on. I know my sentiments are like nothing in the face of such a loss. No one can truly replace a parent, though you clearly still have people around who love and support you just as your father did. As you said, you are lucky to have them. I would love to hear the story of your parents' meeting one day._

_Mr. Rivers was correct in what he told you about my occupation. He asked me the other day, because Mrs. Rivers, I quote, 'didn't want some homeless bum romancing our goddaughter.' I assure you that I am no such thing. I mostly study the X-gene as well, though I research other things, like gene expression in general too._

_I'm afraid there are many things I cannot tell you without giving myself away. I promise I will do my best, though. I can tell you that I have a Ph.D. in genetics from Harvard. Where are you going to college? I'm originally from Dundee, Illinois. My parents still live there, in the house I grew up in as an only child._

_I love to read, basically anything I can get my hands on- when I'm not working or sleeping I'm usually reading. I would have to say that my favorite genre is the historical novel, though I cannot say that I have a favorite book in particular. Do you? And speaking of reading, I wonder how you came into the habit of getting a new book every Thursday? That was one of the things I first noticed about you._

_I have to respectfully disagree with your assessment of yourself as a terrible authority figure. Your niece is the most well-behaved seven year old I've ever seen. You obviously love each other very much._

_Your efforts with me are not looked upon lightly, Zoey. I promise that I will always reply the best I can whenever you write to me. I deeply enjoy learning about you. Please feel free to share anything you see fit. I'll see you on Tuesday._

_Sincerely,_

_H."_

* * *

On Tuesday there was a dramatic turn of events that forever changed my relationship with Zoey, and made me even more sure of my feelings for her. It was brought on by the disturbance Zoey's brother-in-law caused, and also my own slip. I'd been too bold in letting her have the first initial of my name.

It was Marceline behind the counter that day. She greeted me eagerly and gushed over the flowers I left for Zoey. I had a feeling the Rivers' enjoyed watching someone courting their goddaughter in such a chaste and old-fashioned way. Perhaps they liked the romance of it all, considering the beginnings of their own relationship. Apparently a former "Screaming Eagle" wasn't immune to a little sappiness.

Soon enough Zoey walked in, after I took my seat. She and Marceline exchanged greetings while the older woman made up Zoey's order.

"Are the Grey's back from Colorado yet?" Marceline asked curiously.

"Yes. They got back Sunday night."

That perked up my attention. Perhaps Charles would be able to speak to Olivia's parents about going to the Institute? I would have to speak to him when I got home.

"Will you give this to my admirer, please?" Zoey asked, holding out a neatly folded piece of paper.

Marceline took it happily and promised she would. Within half an hour, I had my letter and was sneaking off to read it behind the bookcases.

_"Dear H.,_

_A clue! My admirer has deigned to give me a clue as to his name. Henry? Howard? Herman? Harold? If I guessed right would you tell me?_

_As to your questions about my education, I'm in the human genetics graduate program at Sarah Lawrence College. Almost finished, too- I submit my thesis for review on Thursday. Hopefully it will be accepted and I'll receive my doctorate within a couple weeks._

_After that... I'm not sure what I will do. I will only confide this to you, admirer, because I want to believe that I can trust you (and maybe because the fact that I can't see you makes me brave), but I'm a little afraid of my future. I can't show it to anyone- there are some who hope that I somehow fail everything, and others who want me to succeed so badly that my greatest fear is letting them down. I don't know what my next step is, though I do have some offers. Unfortunately nothing is jumping out at me._

_You asked why I buy a new book every Thursday. It's because of my father, really. Before he died Daddy made me promise to get a new book every week- and read them all- so I would always remember to improve my mind. I guess my library will be quite extensive one day._

_My favorite book is_ A Room with a View  _by E.M. Forster. Have you read it? I think I love it so much because of the way the main characters choose to defy social convention and follow their hearts. The romantic in me was so glad for the happy ending. It was like a fairy tale ending for adults. So often literature is like real life, and so depressing. Even more often it's worse than reality. Why do you think authors do that? To try to tell the reader their life can't be as terrible as this? I know there's more to it than that but sometimes it's easy to forget._

_I'm rambling again, I'm sorry._

_When did you graduate from Harvard? Or would that be too much of a clue? Could you tell me more about your job? I hope to hear from you again soon. You shall see me Thursday. I wish I could see you..._

_Sincerely,_

_Zoey"_

I was just re-taking my seat when a man of middling height with black hair and brown eyes walked in. And he looked  _angry._

_Uh oh. This won't be good._


	11. Discovery

  **Discovery**

"Hi, Nicholas," Marceline called out.

_This is Zoey's brother-in-law. Why is he here?_

The man grunted and turned towards Zoey, who looked up at Marceline's greeting. Her expression immediately became wary.

"Hey, Nick. What's up? Are Chloe and Livie ok?"

"They're fine," Nicholas replied in a clipped voice. "I'm coming to tell you to stay the hell away from my family. I catch you in my house again and I'm calling the cops."

Zoey's freckles suddenly became very visible as the blood drained from her face, leaving her skin ashen and pale. "What? Why?"

"Some people came by last night to try to enroll Olivia in a school for gifted children," her brother-in-law explained.

My heart sank. Apparently Charles had gone to visit last night and it had not gone well. Perhaps that's why he didn't mention it to me.

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Women don't need to go to school," he said harshly. "You've filled Olivia's head with all of this garbage of gender equality and now she's throwing a fit. She wants to be just like 'Auntie Zoey.' My daughter doesn't need you putting ideas like that in her head. You're an unnatural creature and I don't want you around Olivia anymore."

By the end of his tirade, Marceline had come out from behind the counter, looking livid. Zoey merely looked as if Nick had slapped her.

Meanwhile, I was fighting to hold onto my self-control. This wretched man insulting my- lady love?- was enough to make the Beast fight to come out.

"How dare you say that to her?" Marceline snapped, getting in Nick's face.

_Whoa. Angry French lady, watch out._

"You know Zoey owns that house and doesn't even charge you rent. Now, this is not the place to have this conversation. You need to leave, now."

"Why would I? I should own this place-"

Zoey stood up, her face now sheet-white except for angry red patches burning on her cheeks. "'Should' is the operative word in that sentence, and it's only in your opinion. You know I'm part owner of this shop," she said quietly.

"Your father was an idiot. He should have never left his money to you-"

_Sounds like a case of sour grapes to me._

I stood silently, mindlessly, to provide back up to Marceline. My sense of justice had been deeply offended.

"Get out," Marceline ordered flatly.

"I'd like to see you make me," Nick retorted.

"Sir, Mrs. Rivers would be well within her rights to call the police and have you removed from the premises. You're creating a disturbance, and I suggest you leave now," I said calmly.

Nick whirled around, as if he was ready to argue. Then he realized he was only 5'9 and facing someone over six feet tall. Even if I was rather lanky, I knew my expression wasn't exactly thrilled right now. It was a struggle to stay calm, and I didn't want to lose it in the middle of the coffee shop.

His face immediately blanched.

"Fine. We'll talk about this later," Nick said coldly to his sister-in-law. Then he turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

The three of us immediately relaxed somewhat.

Marceline turned to me, her expression relieved. "Thank you, Hank," she told me, patting me on the arm as she moved back towards the counter.

"No problem, ma'am."

_Oh no- why'd you say my name?_

Comprehension dawned on Zoey's face as she looked from Marceline's retreating form to me.

_My secret's out. No!_

To my surprise Zoey composed herself quickly.

"Thank you, for helping," she said, smiling warmly.

"It was no trouble," I replied quickly. Now that my anger had somewhat drained away- I was still indignant on her behalf, though- my shyness was back in full force.

We stood there awkwardly for a moment. I wanted to turn around and walk out, I was so afraid. Was I a disappointment to her?

"I'm Zoey Dubois," she offered, holding out her hand.

It's going to sound silly, but the second our skin touched it felt like a bolt of electricity sparked from her hand to mine.

We shook hands. Hers was small, soft and warm. I was terrified mine felt cold and clammy.

"Hank McCoy," I replied.

Her smile was dazzling, like a rainbow after a thunderstorm. I couldn't help grinning back- her smile was just so contagious.

"'Hank' as in 'Henry?'"

I nodded.

"So my first guess was right?"

"Yes," I told her, not bothering to pretend I didn't know what she was referring to.

There was no use denying that it was me. The connection between a man who'd been coming to the cafe for months, who was willing to defend her, with the same first initial as her secret admirer was too much of a coincidence for her to ignore.

"Will you sit-?" Zoey began, gesturing to her table, but then she cut herself off. She looked at her toenails for a moment, painted blue in cute sandals. Then she met my eyes again and smiled. "I can be patient."

"You're wonderful," I whispered.

_I think... I think I'm in love with you._

Then I hurried away, back to my table. I felt like I was about to come apart at the seams, standing so close to her and knowing my secret had been exposed. I knew Marceline would be the undoing of this thing. Intuition, I suppose. But now what?

Zoey took her seat again and tried to go back to studying, but she was too unfocused to do much. I couldn't say I blamed her, after the confrontation with her brother-in-law and then finding out who her secret admirer was.

What did she think of me? Was she pleased? Would she have preferred someone else? I was in agony, wondering.

Marceline didn't seem to understand that she'd given me away, but I wasn't angry with her for it. She didn't know that I'd given Zoey a clue. If only Nicholas Grey hadn't walked in and created a situation where I felt the need to protect Zoey... It was just bad luck all around.

At that moment Marceline swept over to Zoey's table with a tea tray and sat down, uninvited.

_"Can you believe the nerve of that man? Pretending like he owns that house, like you don't let him live there out of the goodness of your heart. You don't even charge him rent!"_  Marceline complained in French.

_"He's my sister's husband. You know I feel guilty about my father disinheriting Chloe,"_  Zoey muttered.  _"I'm not going to leave her out in the cold."_

Marceline was quiet for a long moment.

_"You're so much like your mother,"_  she said finally. Then she sighed.  _"And your father."_

_"Do you think my father made the right decision?"_  Zoey asked.

_"I do. Chloe has never had any business sense, and then she went and got pregnant too young. By a man who has no respect for women, no less. Your father knew Nicholas would assume control and run the whole thing into the ground because he's too pig-headed. You, on the other hand, are smart. And you have good instincts for business. You were the natural choice, though I do wish you would kick Nicholas to the curb."_

_"Doing that means hurting Livie, and you know I can't do that. I wonder what this school for the gifted was for? You don't think..."_  Zoey trailed off.  _"Could it be for her ability? I've heard of a school in this area that's for people... people..."_

_"Like you?"_

_"Yes."_

I chanced a glance over at them, wondering if there was some way I could help the situation. Zoey was looking at me intently, as if a thought had occurred to her.

Like I could possibly be a mutant, too, and that was my secret.

_I've fallen for a very smart woman._

_"I found out who my admirer is,"_  she murmured, meeting the eyes of the older woman.

_"What? Did he tell you?"_  Marceline asked excitedly.

_"Not really. He signed a letter with his first initial,"_  Zoey replied.

_"And then I said his name! Oh, no! I hope he isn't mad at me,"_  the other woman said, sounding genuinely contrite.  _"Is Hank going to speak to you now?"_

_"Only if he wants to. This... what happened today revealed Hank's hand before he was ready, I think. I want to talk to him, but I can be patient."_

_"What did you think of him?"_  Marceline asked eagerly.

_"He's very handsome-"_

_She thinks I'm handsome!_

_"And he seems very sweet and sincere,"_  Zoey replied shyly.  _"Do you know how old he is?"_

_"Bill asked and said he just turned twenty-three."_

_"You two were so nosy, and still refused to point him out!"_  Zoey laughed.  _"I think you enjoy the entertainment."_

_"Not entirely,"_  Marceline argued.  _"We want you to be happy, Zoey. We respected Hank's wishes because he's a nice boy and we didn't want to scare him off. And... as you said, it's quite fun."_

They laughed and were silent for a moment before Zoey spoke again. She sounded very determined.

_"I'll let Nick cool down for a night, but I'm going up to the house tomorrow after class. I'll try to convince him to let Livie get the best education possible."_

_"What time were you heading over?"_

_"Five-thirty or so,"_  Zoey replied.

_"I'll be free, then. Call me if you need back up, understood?"_

_"I will."_

_"Now, I'll let you get back to your studies. Everything will be alright, ma petite,"_  Marceline said reassuringly. Then she stood and left Zoey to her work.

I had a choice to make. The biggest step towards personal growth yet. I could chose to continue writing letters to Zoey, in the hopes that one day I would work up the gall to speak to her... And possibly lose any chance I had with her if she gave up on me.

Or... I could talk to her. And  _try._

I loved her already. The chance that Zoey was right, that I could be everything she ever wanted (though that was rather unbelievable) was very tempting. Could I risk it? I could lose this strange relationship we had.

Or I could gain everything I had ever dreamed of.

Yes, I decided. She was worth it. I was going to take a chance...


	12. Reaching Out

**Reaching Out**

That same night I spoke to Charles after dinner.

"Charles- I heard it didn't go well with the Grey's last night," I said, after meeting him in his study.

"No, it certainly did not. Nicholas Grey was completely against the idea of his daughter going to any sort of private school. He's also completely unaware of his daughter's mutation," Charles replied heavily. "But you were right. She is a tactile telepath."

"Do you think you'd be able to help her learn to control it?"

"Yes, I should think so. If her father wasn't so against the idea."

"Zoey is going to try to convince him to let Olivia go- she figured out that this 'school for the gifted' is actually for mutants. Grey came in and caused a scene at the cafe, telling Zoey to stay away. He doesn't want his daughter's head filled with nonsense like 'gender equality' and thinks she's a bad influence."

"Did you speak to her?" Charles asked shrewdly.

"I did, actually. But not about that," I replied, feeling both embarrassed and proud of that fact. "She knows that it's been me all along, though."

"That's a start, I suppose," he said, with a smug smile.

"Can we visit the Grey's tomorrow, to help Zoey convince them?" I asked tentatively.

"'We?'"

_Please don't over-think this, Charles._

"Yes. I'll go with you this time, instead of Sean."

"With you offering to take initiative like that, how can I refuse?" he laughed.

* * *

That's how I found myself driving Charles in the Bentley to the Grey house- or should I call it the Dubois house?- the next afternoon. We timed it so that Zoey would hopefully arrive at about the same time. I knew I needed to speak to her and sincerely hoped she wouldn't think I was a crazy stalker.

The house was lovely, a European-style mansion. Not nearly as large as the Institute, but big enough to be impressive.

It didn't really strike me until that moment that Zoey was apparently a very well-off young woman, if she owned this house. Where did she live?

My discovery of her wealth did not change my opinion of her- unless you counted a sudden attack of nerves. What would a beautiful, intelligent, kind  _and_ rich young woman want with a geeky scientist who turned into a monster?

Suddenly I felt the urge to turn around and go home.

_No. I can do this. I'm going to try._

I had just finished helping Charles out of the car when a little flash of light less than ten yards up the walkway caught my attention. And then Zoey was there, striding towards the front door. Like she hadn't just materialized out of thin air.

"Z-zoey!" I called softly.

Charles, looking amused in his wheelchair, chuckled. "Your lady love appears to be quite talented, herself."

Zoey froze and turned around, her expression horrified and fearful. Then she saw who it was.

"Hank? What are you doing here?" she asked, now looking surprised and wary.

The fact that she wasn't scrambling for explanations over her sudden appearance told me that she'd decided that I was a mutant, as well. There was nothing to fear from me, in regards to exposure.

"Wait- you were listening in to Marcy and I, weren't you?" she guessed, eyes wide.

I nodded guiltily.

_"And you can speak French?"_

_"Oui."_

Zoey appeared to be torn between anger and amusement as she regarded me. As if she was buying time to decide what she was feeling, her gaze shifted towards Charles.

"Are you the mentor who made Hank get out more?"

"I am. Charles Xavier, at your service. I'm the headmaster at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Did you know Hank can speak eight languages, actually?" he offered brightly. "And did he tell you he graduated from Harvard?"

She nodded slightly.

"At the age of fifteen?"

Her eyes darted back over to me, her expression unreadable. I felt like my head was about to explode from embarrassment. My cheeks felt hot enough to melt steel.

"Charles, please stop it," I pleaded.

"What? I know you're too modest to say these things for yourself, and someone has to tell her," Charles retorted.

I sighed over my interfering mentor and gathered my courage. "Zoey, may I speak with you alone for a moment?"

"Yes. Come with me," she said, looking at Charles one more time.

"Don't worry, I'm fine waiting by the car."

Zoey eyed him warily again, before beckoning me forward. I followed her to a small gazebo in the front garden. It was a lovely little spot.

"He's a telepath, isn't he?" she asked, sitting on a bench.

She gestured that I sit, as well. I sat on the opposite side of the same bench as her. Within polite speaking distance, but giving her enough personal space.

_Don't be creepy, don't be creepy._

"Yes. How did you know? Because you're used to feeling Olivia in your mind?" I guessed.

Zoey stared at me like I'd grown a second head.

_So much for not being creepy._

I shook my head at myself. "I'm sorry, that was impertinent. I know that you're very protective of her."

"Yes," she agreed simply. She seemed tense- waiting for me to explain what I was doing here, what on earth was going on.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here," I offered.

"Yes," Zoey repeated.

She tilted her head curiously, causing the afternoon sunlight to catch her curls in a whole new way. I watched in fascination as her hair changed colors. I felt I could watch her all day-

_Wait. Focus._

"Well, a few weeks ago, I watched you scold Olivia for trying to find out who your admirer was from Mrs. Rivers. I guessed that Olivia was a tactile telepath. And then afterwards, I overheard you speaking to Mrs. Rivers about how you worried over your niece because of her gifts," I explained.

I winced, knowing it sounded terrible.

"I'm so sorry for the intrusion- my sense of hearing is very good, and I couldn't help it," I began to babble. "But I wanted to see if I could help Olivia somehow, so I asked Charles if he could speak to your sister and brother-in-law about your niece joining our school. I thought he could help her learn to control her telepathy."

"That was very kind of you," Zoey said after a long moment. "Thank you."

I shook my head quickly. "I didn't mean for it to have such negative consequences for you. I'm sorry."

"Please don't apologize, you were only trying to help. I would like Olivia to go this school, if possible. It's for mutants, isn't it?"

I nodded.

There was a slight pause, as if she was gathering her thoughts.

"I was thinking about how you said you had a secret, just like me. I have a feeling it's because you're a mutant, too. Like I am," Zoey told me. She looked very vulnerable, and hopeful.

"I am a mutant, yes. But my secret is more than just that. I've... I've actually known you were a mutant for quite a while now. Since the first time we spoke, months ago. I just don't know what your abilities are," I said.

She looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"Mutants smell different from humans," I explained awkwardly.

_Just stop talking. You keep making it worse._

I sighed and shook my head. "I'm not helping my own case. I must seem like a creepy stalker to you."

"I don't know. I haven't run away yet, have I?" Zoey teased, with a playful smile that stole my breath. "I'm still here."

"Yes, you are," I agreed, practically amazed. She was giving me the benefit of the doubt, at least. I grinned back for a moment before becoming serious again. "Would you like me to help you convince your brother-in-law to let Olivia go to Xavier's?"

"I hope I won't need the help, but please come in just in case," she said.

I nodded and stood, boldly holding out a hand to help her up. Zoey smiled and took it, setting off a storm of butterflies in my stomach.

When she'd regained her feet Zoey linked her arm in mine. I smiled nervously and put my hand on hers as we started to walk back to Charles, arm-in-arm. I liked that feeling. _A lot._

"Can I ask you something?" I asked quietly, looking down at her exquisite face. She raised her eyebrows, telling me to ask away. "Are you glad that it was me, or would you have preferred someone else as your secret admirer?"

"I was hoping it was you," Zoey replied, blushing prettily. "You're very cute, you know."

The butterflies in my stomach suddenly became pterodactyls.

_She thinks I'm cute!_

Charles was grinning broadly when we came back into sight. Actually, he looked rather smug.

_I'd call him nosy for listening, but I have no room to judge._

"Are we ready?" he asked cheerfully.

"Yes. But please let me try to convince them, first," Zoey requested politely.

"Of course. I've already struck out once with your brother-in-law," Charles said genially.

Zoey nodded and squeezed gently before releasing my arm.

Then she walked up to the front door of the house she owned but did not live in and rang the bell.


	13. Confrontation

**Confrontation**

It took a few minutes, but a blonde-haired woman finally opened the door.

I hadn't noticed before, but the sisters were very alike in appearance. Both had curly hair, though Chloe's white-blonde curls were tighter and more wild. Zoey's hair was more lushly curled, with that fascinating iridescent quality to it. Red, strawberry blonde and platinum all at once. The older sister was also taller and heavier-set than Zoey's tiny form, with blue eyes instead of green.

But both sisters had the same heart-shaped face and full lips. Chloe's expression was pinched and worn out compared to her sister's fresh complexion. I had a feeling it was because her husband tried to make her life miserable, the poor soul.

Chloe Grey took one look at her younger sister and the two men behind her and tried to slam the door in her face.

"Hey! No you don't," Zoey snapped. She stuck her foot in the door jam and slammed her shoulder into the door to keep Chloe from closing it on her. "Let me in, Chloe."

"Nick says you can't come in here," replied the fearful woman.

"Nick also said that we would talk later, and here I am," Zoey retorted. "Ready to talk."

"Fine," Chloe relented, after a moment's thought. Her eyes swept over to Charles and myself as she allowed the door to swing open. "What's that man doing here again?"

"He's here to help Livie, I promise. Let him in, please."

Mrs. Grey looked at us suspiciously. I thought she was going to refuse, but she stepped to the side and allowed me to push Charles' chair over the front steps and into the house.

Her back was towards Zoey, but I saw what the younger sister did at that moment. A little bird formed in her hand and took flight, up the stairs. It looked like it was made out of flames.

_Interesting._

"My husband already spoke with you," Chloe said once Charles and I were inside. "We don't think our daughter needs to go to a special school. She's a girl. Why waste time on education?"

"' _We_ ' or ' _he_ ,' Chloe?" Zoey asked, watching her sister closely. "We were raised in the same house. Daddy told us we could be anything we wanted to be. Just because you were content to be a wife and mother doesn't mean Livie will, too."

Chloe looked like she was about to reply, but an interruption came in the form of her husband.

"Who's at the door?" Nicholas Grey shouted from deeper within the house.

"It's Zoey. She-"

"What?" The question was a snarl.

Zoey glanced at Charles and I. "Here we go," she muttered, squaring her thin shoulders.

I wished I could tell her how pretty she looked today. The red sundress she was wearing brought out the green in her eyes and the scarlet in her hair.

Grey walked in with murder written across his face. He didn't even seem to notice the strangers in his foyer. "I told you to stay out of this house," he snapped.

"You said we would talk later, and here we are," Zoey retorted calmly. "We need to discuss this. Livie needs to get-"

"The only thing my daughter needs is to learn how to cook and clean."

_What is this man, a Neanderthal?_

"It's 1968, not  _18_ 68," Zoey argued. "This is ridiculous. Your daughter deserves to have options."

"I'll thank you not to tell me how to raise my child, considering your lack thereof and the fact that no man is ever going to want an unnatural creature like you."

_I take offense to that statement._

Zoey laughed bitterly. "You think I'm going to end up a spinster because I'm eighteen and unmarried? News flash, Nick, people normally don't pop out kids at sixteen anymore. And besides," she said in an acidic tone. "A few months ago you were trying to set me up on blind dates, because you were 'worried' men were going to go after me for my money."

_Wait, what?_

Zoey stepped closer, until she was right in her brother-in-law's face. "So which is it? Am I going to die alone or have a gold-digging husband? Or are you just trying to distract from the fact that you know that at the age of seven your own daughter is smarter than you will ever be?"

"Don't speak to my husband that way," Chloe interjected.

Zoey rolled her eyes. "Why do I bother with either of you?" she muttered, pulling a sealed envelope from her book bag. She slapped it against Nicholas' chest. "Time for blackmail. This is a court summons. Two, actually."

"W-what?" Grey sputtered, holding the papers like they were plague vectors.

"You've been living in this house for eleven months without being charged rent. One of those summons is for a mediator to figure out a good price for you to start paying me. If you can afford to go on a vacation to Colorado you're obviously not hurting for money as bad as you claimed when my father died," Zoey replied. "And the other is for an inquiry as to why you haven't sent your seven-year-old daughter to school. She should be in first grade by now, and yet she's never set foot in a classroom."

She stepped back and put her hands on her hips, eyeing her family. "So here's how it's going to be. You send Olivia to Xavier's and I'll make both of those summons disappear, or you don't. And I'll stop letting you suck off my inheritance on top of getting you thrown in jail for educational child neglect. What's it going to be?"

_Wow. I need to make sure I never make Zoey angry._

Suddenly Nicholas' hand flashed out to slap his sister-in-law in the face, and then I was there next to them, holding Grey's wrist in an iron grip while I tried to maintain my self control. Flying to pieces in this situation wouldn't help anything.

I glared at him silently, barely noticing that while Grey's face was a mix of anger and shock, Zoey and Chloe both looked startled as to how I got there so fast.

_Oops._

_Hank, be careful,_  Charles' voice cautioned in my head.

"Who the hell are you?" Nicholas snapped, tugging to get his hand loose. Not that it did him any good. "You were at the shop yesterday getting into my business."

I tossed his hand, so his shoulder jerked back, and stepped away slightly. The temptation to crush his wrist was getting too great for me to handle. I felt, rather than heard, Charles' quiet sigh of relief.

"I'm Zoey's- friend. I work at Xavier's School for the Gifted, and I'm a man who knows that men who hit women are weak, sniveling cowards," I replied coldly.

I was too afraid to meet Zoey's eyes at that moment. I didn't know what I would find there, and it scared me.

"Ms. Dubois is trying to do what is best for your daughter," Charles said, trying to interject some calm into the situation. "And is obviously willing to go to great lengths to do so. I suggest that you let her."

There was very tense silence before Grey finally spoke.

"Fine."

A huge sigh of relief all around.

"Can you two give us a minute with Livie?" Zoey asked Nicholas and Chloe.

"Are you going to threaten me with jail time if I don't?" he sneered.

"Possibly. That kind of fear keeps a man like you in line," she shot back, glaring daggers at him.

I tensed, just in case he tried to hit her again.

He let out an inconsequential snarl and walked away. Chloe sent her sister a baleful look as she followed her husband deeper into the house.

Zoey took a deep breath and looked between Charles and I. "Thank you. I'm afraid you're not seeing my family at its best."

"I'm guessing you left out the fact that Olivia is a mutant to protect her?" Charles asked gently.

"Yes. I couldn't care less if they hate my guts," Zoey replied seriously. "But I will not allow that girl to grow up believing that her parents hate her. They're not what you would call open-minded."

"I noticed."

She cupped her hands, and a little bird of flames appeared once more. It flew up the stairs, out of sight.

"Livie and I have a code for when some kind of argument happens. She can come out of her room on the second bird," Zoey explained.

_Does that mean this sort of thing happens often? Great..._

"Can you generate fire?" I hypothesized out loud.

"Yes," she replied.

I smiled to myself- her hair looked like flames and she was pyrokinetic. I felt silly for not inferring that before.

Zoey's expression was rather rueful as she met my eyes. "You haven't exactly seen the best side of me today. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to speak to me again."

I shook my head and grinned. "I haven't run away yet, have I?" I replied, quoting her own words from earlier back to her. "I'm still here."

Her answering smile made me feel like I could fly.

I just wanted to bask in the glow of her presence for a moment, ecstatic that I had the chance to be here with her-

"Sounds like someone is smitten," Charles mused, with a self-satisfied grin.

It made me remember that we had an audience. A very  _nosy_  audience.

_Thanks for that, Charles._


	14. A Pushy, Nosy, Telepathic Mentor

**A Pushy, Nosy, Telepathic Mentor**

Thankfully Olivia came running down the stairs at that moment. She went straight for her aunt, who knelt down for a hug. Two curly heads cuddled against each other for a very long embrace.

"Really?" Olivia gasped, pulling away to see her aunt's eyes.

_Oh, so they were "talking."_

"Yes. Would you like to go visit the school tomorrow, after my presentation is over?" Zoey asked.

"No, you can't! You have to go see your secret admirer," the little girl replied in her chirpy bird voice. "He'll be sad without you."

Zoey laughed. "Olivia, I'd like to introduce you to Hank McCoy, my secret admirer. And this is Professor Charles Xavier. He's the headmaster for the school you're going to start at."

The latter part is what caught her attention, thankfully. Apparently the prospect of an education was much more exciting than her aunt's secret admirer, saving me from scrutiny.

I could tell that Charles began to speak to her telepathically because Olivia gravitated towards him like a tiny blonde satellite.

Zoey watched them carefully, while I mostly just looked at her while I could get away with it.

After a moment her expression became one of deep contentment- like someone who had been carrying a heavy burden for so long that the sensation of being without it made them feel buoyant and euphoric.

I'd done the right thing by telling Charles. Not just for Olivia, but for Zoey, too. Hopefully her life would get a little easier now.

"Thank you for being a creepy eavesdropper," she murmured, turning to look at me with a smile.

After one heart-stopping moment I realized she was kidding.

"N-no problem," I said quietly, smiling to let her know I got the joke. "What will you do after your thesis is submitted? Will you still go to the cafe?"

"Of course. But will my secret admirer?"

"I'm not really a secret anymore," I noted shyly. "But... I'd like to still see you. Maybe even sit with you, if you wanted me to?"

Zoey smiled, which made my heart beat faster.

"I'd like that," she replied. "But can I ask you something?"

I nodded.

"Yesterday you still seemed terrified of speaking to me. But today... What changed?"

The answer was simple, if not embarrassing. But I knew I had to answer it. I was committing fully to this thing. I loved her, and I wanted to make her happy if it was in my power to do so.

"I decided to take a chance and see if you were right. Maybe we're perfect for each other and I can make you happy, the way you deserve to be. So I'm going to try."

Zoey's only answer was to flush prettily and slip her hand into mine.

I gave it a gentle squeeze. I was having a hard time believing this wasn't a dream.

_You are so much prettier up close, Zoey._

I'd never seen such pure green eyes in my life. Dark malachite green around the rims of her irises gave way to an emerald color. Around the very edges of her pupils it was the color of verdelite. And her eyes were framed by thick lashes that were so long they brushed her cheeks when her lids were closed.

A small gasp pulled my attention away from Zoey. I turned to see Olivia staring at me avidly.

"You're Auntie's admirer?"

_Oh, no._

I nodded, smiling a little despite my awkwardness.

"You like her?"

"Very much," I replied, flushing up.

_Doesn't beat around the bush, does she?_

"So my auntie was right," Olivia announced proudly. "Boys like smart girls."

"At least the good ones do, yes," Charles said, laughing at my discomfit.

* * *

We didn't stay much longer, considering the unwelcome nature of our visit. Charles promised the Grey's that he would send someone the next day to go over paperwork and such. They seemed less than thrilled, but nodded in agreement.

Zoey walked out with us, having made the wise decision to let Nicholas get used to the idea of his female child receiving an education without her presence.

"Would you like a ride home, Ms. Dubois?" Charles offered, as I got him into the back passenger seat.

She considered it for a long moment before answering. "Sure."

I opened the door for her and helped her into the front seat. I'd gotten in and put on my own seat belt when Charles said cheerfully, "I think you should drop me off first, and then take Ms. Dubois home."

"He's as meddling as my godparents," Zoey muttered.

I chuckled. "Worse, because he's telepathic."

"Thank you both for helping me this evening," she said, after a pause. "And thank you for taking Olivia in."

"It was no trouble," Charles replied. "But will you tell me... it appears that Mrs. Grey was very young when she had Olivia."

"She was sixteen. Nick was twenty-seven at the time. I can tell you that didn't exactly endear him to my father," Zoey said quietly. She opened her mouth to say more, but closed it and shook her head. "Love is weird."

At that point we had pulled through the gate, and she got her first look at the school. A sharp intake a breath told me she was impressed.

"Wow."

"This is Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," Charles announced proudly.

"It's beautiful. Livie's going to feel like a fairy tale princess who gets to live in a castle," Zoey laughed. She looked at me. "Do you live here, too?"

I nodded.

"Are you a teacher?"

"No," I replied. "I stick to lab work."

"He would be a good teacher, though. I've been trying to convince him for years," Charles supplied. It was something he liked to tease me about.

"Maybe you just need to keep trying," Zoey said. "You got him to get out more, didn't you? But at the same time I can understand why you'd never want to leave, Hank."

Charles laughed. "I like her."

My cheeks were burning as I got out of the car to help him out. "I'll see you soon," I promised as I got him in the front door.

"Not _too_ soon, I hope. Good luck."

_Could he be any more heavy-handed?_

I was still shaking my head at that when I got back into the driver's seat.

"You know, sometimes it's the people who love you the most who are the ones who give you the hardest time," Zoey offered.

"Did you think of that yourself?" I grouched, before I could stop myself.

"Nope. Read it on a Hallmark card," she replied cheerfully.

I laughed and started the engine.

"Where to?"

"The corner of Second and Williams, please."

That wasn't a part of the town I knew very well, considering my lack of desire to explore Salem much. I'd held myself apart from the world for far too long.

Once again I was struck by how much Zoey had changed for me.

_Look at me, participating._

There was a rather awkward silence between us. There was so much that I needed to tell her, in order to be completely honest with her.

I had no desire to hide what I was from Zoey anymore. If this beautiful woman chose to be with me, it would be an informed choice. My sense of honor would be violated, otherwise.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked, after the silence had apparently become unbearable for her.

"Yes."

"Do people in general make you nervous, or am I special that way?"

"People do, but you more than most," I replied honestly. "You are special. I mean- not in a 'short bus' way or anything."

"Is it because of your mutation?" she guessed, after she stopped laughing.

"Mostly, I suppose. I've always been rather..."

"Shy?"

I nodded. "I'm more comfortable around my experiments and inventions than people. It's always been that way," I explained.

"So I make you uncomfortable." Zoey said it as a statement, and she sounded a little saddened by that fact.

"No- well, a little," I admitted sheepishly. "I want you to like me."

She laughed, sounding a little startled. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, apparently worried that she'd offended me. "I'm not laughing at you, I'm just laughing because I'm happy."

_I made her happy without even trying? That's a relief. Maybe I can do this after all._

We reached the cross streets at that moment, pulling up in front of a small Victorian-style apartment building with only four floors.

"This is me," Zoey announced. "It's not a castle like yours, but it's not bad."

"It's nice," I replied.

I quickly got out and hurried around to open the door for her. She was smiling as I helped her from the vehicle.

"Would you like to come in? Have some dinner?" she offered tentatively.

It was a fight not to hyperventilate on the spot. Spending time with Zoey? _Alone_? I wanted it with a fierceness that surprised me, but I was also afraid of what could happen. I might ruin everything-

_Stop. Or maybe everything will go perfectly. How will I know, unless I take a chance and go for it?_

"That sounds nice," I said, before the pause caused by my musings got awkward.

Zoey's smile got wider, if that was possible. "Come with me," she beckoned.

I took a deep breath and followed her inside.


	15. Prelude

**Prelude**

I followed her inside the building into a small lobby that contained a set of stairs and an elevator. Zoey led me to the stairs, up to the very top. There was only one apartment per floor.

We didn't really speak, except for once when she looked over her shoulder with a worried look on her face.

"You move so quietly that I thought you weren't there anymore," she said, frowning thoughtfully.

"I'm light on my feet," I replied ironically. "Part of my mutation."

"I'm a little jealous," Zoey laughed. "I feel like I'm an elephant."

She had to only weigh a hundred pounds at the very most, so the idea of her being an elephant was silly.

I chuckled. "I didn't know elephants came in pygmy size," I joked, making her laugh again.

Finally, we reached the fourth floor landing.

"This is my place," she announced, opening the door. It wasn't even locked. "Come on in."

I followed her inside and quietly shut the door behind me while Zoey took off her sandals.

_My stars and garters, I'm in a woman's apartment. Alone._

"Where are my babies?" she cooed.

_Or not._

To my surprise, three pure black cats came scampering up. They first wrapped themselves around Zoey's ankles, but quickly turned their attention to me. One even stood on its hind legs to peer up at me better with its big golden eyes. The cat reached up with a paw to bat at my hand playfully.

"Sid, mind your manners," Zoey scolded. "I should've warned you, I'm sorry."

I shook my head and knelt down to give the felines the attention they were demanding so fiercely. They were purring so hard their bodies appeared to be shaking.

"What's your name, pretty?" I murmured, scratching one under the chin.

Her eyes closed in contentment. I could tell it was a female- it was smaller, more petite than the others.

"That's Lucie. This," Zoey said, gesturing to the largest cat. He was a little plump. "Is Sydney. And then this is Charlie."

" _A Tale of Two Cities_?" I guessed, now petting Charlie. He was long and lithe, like a panther.

"Yes," she agreed, smiling. Then she stood, holding Lucie, and walked further into the apartment. I followed. "This is my library, and here's the living room. Feel free to make yourself at home. How does chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes sound?"

"Sounds amazing," I replied honestly.

Zoey took a right turn into a small kitchen, past a little dining table. There was a sliding door past the table, leading onto a small patio.

"Can I look at your library?" I asked.

"I'd think less of you if you didn't," she teased, at which I chuckled.

Charlie and Sid trailed behind me as I backtracked to the room beside the kitchen. Except for the wall the doorway was set against, every vertical space was taken up by bookcases. Only half of them were filled. Zoey was planning on having an extensive library someday.

I wandered out of there after several minutes. There was a door propped open directly across from me. Zoey's scent was very concentrated in that room, the aroma carried to me by the disturbed air from the air conditioner. It had to be her bedroom.

The only thing I could see was a wall with pictures on it- the entryway to the room bent so the rest of the room was hidden from the doorway. I wondered what it looked like in there? I pictured her sleeping like an angel under a down comforter.

_Covered in cats._

I hurried away from that room, wanting to look at the living room instead. The furniture looked comfortable and welcoming. In the corner the walls angled out into a Victorian-style sitting area. Zoey's desk was there, surrounded by windows. It seemed like an airy place to do work. I pictured her sitting and chewing away on her pen caps, like she did at the cafe.

Next to the sitting area was a fireplace, which had pictures on the mantle. Of course I gravitated towards them, curiosity driving me on.

Zoey's mother had been petite, like her children, and a dark-haired beauty with emerald green eyes. Mr. Dubois, on the other hand, had been a tall, tow-headed blonde.

There was a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Dubois as a young man and woman, freshly married and back from the war. Mr. Dubois looked like a model soldier in his uniform, the type you'd see in advertisements for war bonds. Another picture was of Mrs. Dubois alone, an old black-and-white photograph. She looked compelling and lovely, like a movie star.

Only one photograph showed the whole family- Zoey recognizable even as a baby thanks to her iridescent hair. The others showed Zoey and Chloe, with or without their father. There were some candid shots of Billy and Marceline with Zoey, and of course some pictures of Olivia- with Zoey and alone. Nicholas Grey was conspicuous in his absence.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

I jumped slightly, embarrassed for being caught snooping.

"Sorry!" Zoey said sheepishly, from right behind me.

"It's fine," I replied, shaking my head. "I thought you were a pygmy elephant?"

"I guess you were focused on the pictures," she said, stepping forward to stand next to me. A sad little smile came to her face as she looked at the photographs of her parents.

"I'm being intrusive. I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be. If I didn't want people to see them I wouldn't have the pictures out here, Hank," she said reassuringly.

I cast around for something to say. "Your parents were very happy together," I offered. "I can see it, even through the photographs."

Zoey smiled again, wistfully. "My father never remarried. He told me that you only love like that once in a lifetime. Nothing else is going to compare. I guess that's why he never bothered finding someone else."

"He had you and Chloe to love."

"That's very true," she agreed. "Now, would you like something to drink? I have water, milk, orange juice, Coke, and wine."

"I'll have a Coke, please."

"Coming right up."

I followed her back to the kitchen. Again, her cats acted as furry little satellites. When I tentatively sat on a bar stool, Lucie jumped in my lap and the other two jumped on the empty chair to watch me.

"Thank you," I said, as Zoey handed me a soda. "Are your cats always this... friendly?"

"Not really. They must like you," she replied. She began to prepare dinner- there was already a pot of potatoes on the stove.

"In Japanese culture they say 'a woman who owns a black cat will have many suitors,'" I offered after a moment.

Zoey snorted. "Well, in America owning three cats makes me a crazy cat lady. And black cats are even worse."

"You're not a crazy cat lady. The cut off for that is ten. So you're fine," I said cheerfully.

She laughed again.

_This is going so well!_

"Your thesis presentation is tomorrow?" I asked curiously.

"Yes, it is. I'm trying not to think about it or I'll get nervous."

"Oh. I was rather hoping you would tell me about your thesis," I said, suddenly deflated. "I've been watching you work on it for months now, but I have no idea what it's about."

"When you put it like that..."

So we talked about her research, and how nervous she was about her presentation the next day. Having been through it myself, I tried to ease her worries. After all, if a geek like myself could do it, she should have no problems. Zoey asked about my own research, so I described it to her.

By the time we sat down to dinner a bit of my shyness had evaporated. Zoey was as kind and intelligent as I suspected her to be.

She couldn't cook very well, though. The steak was chewy, the mashed potatoes bland, and the rolls burned on the bottom, though of course I said nothing.

I found her ineptitude in the kitchen endearing. So maybe I really was just a fool in love.

While we ate the conversation stayed away from my secret, though I did tell Zoey about Cuba, Magneto, and the formation of the X-Men and the Institute. I left out my personal relationship with Raven, though.

_No need to air all of my dirty laundry at once._

I had enough of a bombshell to drop on her already. There was no need to bring the ex-girlfriend into it, too. I wasn't looking forward to telling Zoey about my feral alter ego, though I knew it had to be done. I could only hope that she would still be willing to speak to me afterwards, and not turn away in disgust like I feared she would.

But after the meal came what I dreaded so much. It was time to tell Zoey my secret.


	16. An Important Discussion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that in this story Hank's serum only suppresses his second mutation. His original mutation is still there. Also, credit for Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream.

**An Important Discussion**

Zoey sat on the couch cushion next to me with her feet tucked up under her dress. I fiddled with a Coke bottle so I'd have something to do with my hands. I was so nervous the bland mashed potatoes from dinner were in danger of making a second appearance.

"You said that being a mutant was only part of your secret, and you also wrote in your letter that you believed you could never be anyone's 'Prince Charming,'" Zoey said finally, when I made no move to speak first. "Which leads me to think your mutation is physical?"

"It is," I replied reluctantly. Just because I promised myself I'd tell her everything didn't mean I'd have to enjoy it. Not when it meant possibly losing her. "Mostly."

"You're being maddeningly evasive," she griped, frowning.

"I know, but please understand that it's a very serious thing. So serious that I wouldn't blame you for kicking me out and never speaking to me again," I told her sadly.

"Try me," Zoey said.

When I finally found the courage to meet her eyes she met my gaze steadily. There was no judgment there, only patience and an open mind.

I took a deep breath and focused on slowly taking off my shoes and socks, revealing my prehensile feet. They stretched out, happy to be free from their prison.

Zoey gasped, making me wince. I looked at her face, expecting an expression of disgust or revulsion, but she was smiling.

_Smiling._

She giggled and clasped my hand with hers. Then she scooted over on the couch until our sides were touching, she was so close, and untucked her leg so she could place her foot under mine. Sensing what she wanted, I closed my finger-toes and cradled her cute little foot with my huge one.

"We're holding hands  _and_  feet," Zoey said brightly. "Not many people can say they can do this, right?"

"Definitely not," I agreed, feeling rather dumbstruck at her apparent acceptance. "Y-you don't mind?"

"Of course not. Why would I be? Can you climb really well?" she asked excitedly, her eyes shining. "Does it hurt, folding your feet to get them into shoes? How coordinated are you with them? You're amazing!"

I just stared at her, while part of my worries leeched away. One hurdle down, though the worst was yet to come.

"Most people are repulsed by my feet," I observed dryly.

"Most people are too closed-minded to see past their own noses," Zoey retorted. I let out a startled laugh. She leaned down and tapped at my leg. "May I see?"

I crossed my legs, so my foot across my lap. "Sorry if they stink," I muttered.

"Men are supposed to have smelly feet, Hank," she replied dismissively. She poked at the sole of my foot with her free hand. "Are you ticklish? How sensitive are your toes?"

"No, I'm not ticklish. And I can use them just like hands, for climbing or anything else you would think of. And it's uncomfortable to fold up my feet, but it doesn't hurt," I explained, uncrossing my legs. My right foot was still cradling her left.

"Was that all you were afraid of?" Zoey asked incredulously. "Your big dark secret was awesome feet?"

"No, Zoey," I said heavily. "There's more."

"I'm listening. But before you tell me, could you explain your reasons?"

"I need to tell you because I want to pursue an actual relationship with you," I replied, feeling my cheeks start to burn. "And I was under the impression that you might be interested in doing the same."

She smiled and nodded eagerly, though her cheeks turned a little pink. "It's not every day a man buys me coffee and books and brings me flowers for months. It shows some dedication. And maybe it's a little weird, but I can appreciate flattery in its various forms."

I ducked my head in embarrassment. "I'm glad you took it that way. I knew I was being weird, but seeing you made me so happy and I wasn't brave enough to actually say something until now," I told her. "But anyway. I don't want us to become truly involved with each other unless you know exactly what you're getting involved  _with_. It wouldn't be fair to you, otherwise. So I want you to know now and hopefully save you pain later if you were to decide it's too much for you to handle."

Zoey nodded. "I understand."

_Well, here goes._

I prayed she would still want me.

"Growing up, I always hated my feet. I just wanted to blend in, to be normal, but they made me stick out. So I worked on a 'cure' of sorts, for my physical mutation. I met a shape-shifting mutant- Raven- who let me use her blood to try to synthesize a serum that would make my feet look normal, but allowed me to keep my other abilities," I said, feeling the old wounds sting. Time had mostly healed them, but speaking of my failure still hurt. "I miscalculated somewhere. The night before Cuba my serum turned me into a monster, instead."

She squeezed my hand, telling me to go on. Her brow was puckered, like she was concentrating.

"I had blue fur covering my body, yellow eyes, claws, fangs- the works. And I had this new side of my personality emerge. I'd always feared that part of me was an animal, and my feet were a manifestation of it. I felt that if I could just make my appearance normal, that... my inner self would follow, too. But then my serum back-fired, and I've always wondered if my appearance changed to match the beast inside, instead of the other way around. Because now I'm a feral mutant. We're more instinctual, more bestial. It's part of our nature to be like animals. My serum brought that side out of me."

"You're not blue and furry now, though. And you seem to act normal enough," Zoey argued softly. "Except for the extreme shyness, I guess."

"Right. Almost a year ago, now, I developed another formula that repressed my second mutation. I'm fine, most of the time. But when I get angry, or some other kind of-  _instinct_  kicks in... my serum fails, and my feral side takes over until I can calm back down again."

_Um, can you see where I'm going with this...?_

Zoey was quiet for a long moment, contemplating that. We were still holding hands as well as feet, so that was nice, but her silence quickly became unnerving.

"Can you see why I would be concerned about being involved in a romantic relationship with anyone?" I prompted.

"You're afraid you would get angry? That you could hurt me?"

_No. Please don't make me say it?_ Please?

"No. I almost never get angry enough for that to happen anymore. It's pretty rare because I've learned to control my temper very, very well. Your brother-in-law trying to hit you made me upset enough for it to be a close call, but that was the nearest I've come to losing it in ages. And hurting a female goes against instinct, no matter what. I don't think I'd be able to hit a girl even if she punched me in the face a few times."

"Then what are you afraid-?" she began, but then she froze and her eyes went wide. Her cheeks took on a hint of color. "Oh.  _That._ "

Now _she gets it. My sweet, innocent Zoey._

"It's the main reason why I never tried to speak to you," I admitted sheepishly. "Even if you accepted my weird feet and my utter lack of social skills, how could I ask you to be with someone who might not even be able to kiss you- let alone anything else- without turning into a furry blue monster?"

Zoey's cheeks turned completely red as she contemplated that. "Well, I wouldn't mind trying to kiss you-" she began.

_Cue heart attack._

"But... as for 'anything else,' just so you know, I'm, um- saving myself for marriage," she explained awkwardly. Her face was as scarlet as her hair at this point. "Things worked out well for my mother, but I don't want to make the same mistake as my sister. So... yeah. Is that ok with you?"

I nodded eagerly, feeling quite relieved that we could put that particular hurdle far, far in the future for consideration.

Zoey now looked at me thoughtfully. I held her gaze, hoping she would see the agony I'd gone through over my decision to tell her, the fear I had that she would turn away in disgust.

"What I don't understand is, if you won't hurt me or anything... what's the problem?" she asked finally.

"The fact that I could turn fuzzy and-"

"And I was willing to give my secret admirer a chance even if he turned out to be thirty-five and balding," Zoey cut in.

_Furry monster versus an older bald guy. I'm not seeing the comparison, honestly._

Suddenly she released my hand and pulled her foot away from mine, sitting on her knees next to me instead. Just when I was starting to feel like I was being rejected, Zoey flung her arms around my neck and snuggled her head against my shoulder.

_"'Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind/ And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind,'"_  she whispered. "I'm so sorry you've always felt that you couldn't just be yourself."

I bowed my head and placed one hand over her wrist without thinking.

_This feels like acceptance... can I really be so lucky?_

Zoey lifted her head, so I did as well. Our faces were only inches apart, so close that I could smell her sweet breath and count her eyelashes if I wanted to.

She started to lean in. My brain felt like it was going through a nuclear meltdown- excitement, desire, and intense fear of what could happen swirling around, confusing emotions that made me feel a little lost.

The only think I knew for sure was that I'd never wanted anything as badly as to kiss Zoey in my entire life.

I felt her lips just barely graze mine-


	17. Empathy

**Empathy**

And then a seventeen pound cat jumped into my lap, making all of my breath escape in a gasp. I jerked away from Zoey's face in reflex.

_Ow. Ow. Ow. Right on the jewels, cat. Ow._

Sydney meowed loudly in our faces, as if he hadn't  _already_  completely ruined the moment.

Zoey let out a little huff of annoyance and disappointment at her cat, who appeared to be undeterred by his owner's irritation. Instead he ignored her and moled around my lap, looking for my free hand. Once he found it he head-butted me until I began to pet him.

"I'm sorry," she said, moving to sit on the couch properly once more.

"Don't be."

_Your cat, on the other hand..._

I released her wrist, which meant my other hand was uninhibited. Lucie immediately jumped up to take advantage of that. She sat on my other side primly so I could pet her too. Charlie jumped onto Zoey's lap demanding attention as well.

_We're surrounded!_

"Are they siblings?" I asked politely.

"Yes, from the same litter. Their mom was a stray and got hit by a car, so I bottle-fed them. I was planning on giving them away at first, but I raised them from a week old. I couldn't let them go if I tried," Zoey said sheepishly. "Even though I'm slightly allergic."

_Of course not. Not with your gentle heart._

I chuckled. "I understand."

We sat there for a little longer, chatting about her cats while said felines traded off between us for petting. The mood had certainly cooled considerably, but the fact that Zoey had wanted to kiss me at all told me that she was fine with my secret.

I felt deliriously happy. The girl of my dreams knew what I was and was still willing to try out a relationship with me. She was giving me the benefit of the doubt after my unorthodox approach to all of this, and giving me a chance with her.

It all made me just love her more with each passing minute.

* * *

It was after eleven o'clock when I noticed the time.

"I'm so sorry, but look what time it is," I told her reluctantly. "I know you have a big day tomorrow, so I should be going."

Zoey looked at the clock and nodded wistfully. We both stood, dislodging the cats from their perches on our laps. I could barely feel my toes after having Sydney sitting there for several minutes.

"I had fun tonight," Zoey said, leading me to the door after I put on my socks and shoes once more.

"Me, too. Thank you for having me. And for being so understanding- it means more to me than I can say," I told her honestly.

She shook her head and smiled, her eyes sparkling up at me like jewels.

_I want to kiss you so badly right now. And I think you'd even let me._

But I was afraid of losing control. Not only did I fear what I would do in that sort of state, I also didn't want to inconvenience Zoey by having to wait in her apartment until I calmed down again.

And besides, there was no need to test her acceptance of me so soon, was there? Definitely not. I  _much_ preferred to leave that reveal far, far in the future.

I settled for kissing Zoey's cheek, which got a little red when I pulled away. Her skin was soft and warm, like a rose petal in sunlight.

"Good luck on your presentation. Will I see you tomorrow at Marceline's?" I asked, stepping out the door.

"Of course."

"Until tomorrow, then," I said, with a smile. A real one, that showed off my (slightly crooked) teeth. "Good night, Zoey."

"Night, Hank."

I think I may have floated down the stairs, I was so happy.

That night I fell asleep with a smile on my face, and my thoughts were all of her. I hoped that she dreamed of me, too.

* * *

The next day I had Danger Room training with Alex and Sean.

The Danger Room was a simulator that I'd created, as per Charles' instructions, for practice in various scenarios that we came up against during missions. I was forever tinkering with it, trying to make the simulation more realistic and complex. Plus, working on it was very diverting.

_This is_ my  _version of fun._

Though the Danger Room helped all of us be prepared for action, for me it was also an opportunity to work on keeping my head in stressful situations. I tried my best not to lose control of my feral half during the simulations as practice for my everyday life.

Unfortunately that day the stress started before I even stepped into the simulator.

"Hey there, Beast," Alex greeted me when I entered the control room.

Charles and Sean were also there already, both looking expectant. They'd been waiting for me.

_Oops._

The blonde man happened to have a Cheshire cat grin on his face. "Where were you last night?" he asked, his voice dripping with innuendo.

I frowned at him. My gaze slid over to Charles, who was smiling as well- though his looked much more genuine, like he was happy for me.

"Having dinner with Zoey," I muttered finally.

Alex laughed. "So you actually talk to her now?"

"No, we just sat there in utter silence," I snapped. "What do you care?"

"I'm just surprised you finally got up the stones to speak to her. Does she know you've been ogling her for months?"

I felt my face heating up. "Yes, she does. She said she thought it was flattering."

_And weird. But she's ok with it, thankfully._

"I've gotta meet this girl. What is she, crazy? Thinking that a guy staring at her for months is cute?" Alex asked rhetorically.

A snarl threatened to escape my throat, but I clamped it down. Only a low growl passed through my lips, warning him not to insult Zoey in my hearing.

"What do you know, Havok? Who's got a girl now and who doesn't?" Sean cut in, raising his gingery eyebrows.

He had a point. While he had his Maeve, I- hopefully- had Zoey now. Alex was the single one.

"Hey, I've got plenty of skills with the ladies," Alex retorted, instantly defensive.

"When did you learn those? While you were sitting in prison?"

I snorted, unable to stop myself.

None of us usually spoke of Alex's imprisonment, out of respect, but he was really getting on my nerves. I gave Sean an appreciative glance for taking the heat off me instead of joining in for once.

I knew part of Alex's teasing was because I was an easy target- I was too quiet, too retiring, and even though I had a monster inside of me all of us knew I was too afraid to let it out.

Instead I told myself that Alex wasn't worth the effort it would take to throw him across the room when he started to mouth off. Though I had a feeling the sound his thick skull would make when he hit the wall would be very satisfying.

Alex opened his mouth to retort to Sean's jab.

"Enough," Charles announced, sounding like an overworked father to a trio of unruly teens. No matter that we were all over twenty now. "Time for training. Take out your jealousy in the Danger Room, Havok."

The concept that Alex Summers, bad boy extraordinaire, was jealous of me was more than a little ludicrous. On the rare occasions that the three of us X-Men went out somewhere, it was always him that the ladies flocked to.

But they didn't stick around. So maybe he had a valid reason to be envious. Maybe he yearned for something more, too.

_I'm empathizing with_ Alex _? What's the world coming to?_

It made me a little uncomfortable, in all honesty. Alex was so antagonistic towards me most of the time that I hadn't bothered to analyze the motivations behind his behavior. At least I understood somewhat, now. He was just as lonely and vulnerable as I was.

Not that I'd ever say that to him. He'd probably punch me.

My new insight into Alex's character didn't make me feel any more enthusiastic about having Zoey come to the mansion with Olivia in two days, which was the plan. The idea of Alex following us around and mocking me in front of Zoey just didn't appeal to me.

_Call me crazy, but that's not my version of fun._


	18. Fairy Tales

**Fairy Tales**

Despite my reservations in regards to her visit to the mansion, I was eager to see Zoey again. I wanted to see that her acceptance of me wasn't a dream. In the daylight, it almost seemed too good to be true.

The walk to Marceline's Cafe under the warm June sun later that day was both endless and too short at the same time. I wanted to hurry up and get there, but if I was too fast I would sit there pointlessly waiting for a while.

Billy was running the store that day.

"Hey, kid. I heard my wife ratted you out the other day," he said when I stepped up to the counter, after laying flowers on Zoey's table.

"It was an accident," I told him honestly. "She didn't know that I'd given Zoey my first initial in one of my letters. Zoey's too smart not to make the connection."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Sit with Zoey," I replied, with a sheepish grin. An idea struck me then, and I backed away to follow through with it. "I'll have the usual. I just want to pick out a book for her first."

I quickly found the book I wanted to get for her-  _The Metamorphoses_ , by Ovid. It was a collection of Greek myths that all involved transformations of some kind. It seemed to fit the situation, considering the changes in my life I'd made for myself since finding Zoey.

_Oh, and I turn into a big blue monster. There's that too._

"You know, Zoey comes to dinner every Sunday night at our place. Why don't you come too this week?" Billy suggested as I got my drink and paid for both it, the book, and Zoey's mocha.

_An official "meet the parents" dinner? Um..._

"I'd like that. Just tell me the time and place."

"801 Hummingbird Lane. Say, six o'clock?"

I nodded, and paused.

_I'm just full of brilliant ideas today._

"Sir, I know that Mr. Dubois is gone, so you're the closest person Zoey has to a father," I began hesitantly. "Do you mind us seeing each other? I mean, I know I haven't gone about this in a very orthodox manner-"

_Last time I checked you're not supposed to borderline_ stalk _women you're interested in._

Billy surprised me by chuckling. "Eddy would have loved you, kid. You've got my approval, don't worry. No one can be truly good enough for that girl, but you're pretty damn close."

"How do you know? You don't know much about me, Mr. Rivers," I argued. And then I wondered why I couldn't just take his blessing and go with it.

Then I realized I was trying to be fair to this man who seemed to have so much trust in me. Enough faith to allow his goddaughter, who he obviously cherished, to see me.

"I can just tell things. You're a good man, Hank. You have my blessing."

"Thank you, sir," I said.

We shook hands and then I sat at Zoey's table to wait for her, facing away from the entrance. Every time the door opened I tensed up and took a whiff, hoping for the familiar, delicious aroma that would tell me my love had arrived.

She was right on time, walking in like a summer's breeze. Her scent carried to me, as did a small delighted gasp. I hoped that was for me.

"Hi, Billy," she said.

"Hey, Zoey."

I heard her approach, felt a small hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her face, grinning. Her smile was dazzling.

"Hello, Hank."

She was dressed conservatively today, in a plain black dress with kitten-heeled pumps. Not her usual style at all, which I could only describe as girly and cute, having no eye for such things. Her hair was even up in a bun, though I must confess that I preferred it down.

I had a feeling she'd just finished with her presentation and come straight here.

"Hello. How'd it go today?" I asked eagerly.

"Pretty sure I nailed it," Zoey replied happily, slipping off her book bag and perching in her chair.

"That's great. Congratulations, Dr. Dubois," I said sincerely. Without thinking I took her hands in mine and squeezed.

She laughed and returned the pressure. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Very nice, yes."

"How'd it go today, Zoey?" Billy called out. "I can't tell if you're happy about your presentation or Hank, there."

"I'm happy about both!"

Zoey was practically giddy, and I didn't blame her a bit. She was an eighteen year old female with a doctorate in genetics- in 1968, she was one-of-a-kind.

"Is this for me?" she asked finally, spotting the book on the table. The bouquet of primroses was sniffed at delicately and propped up with a smile.

"Yes. I didn't see it in your library last night, so..."

"Thank you, I love it," she replied with a knowing look. She understood, then.

"Did you come straight from your presentation?" I asked curiously.

Zoey nodded, smiling again. "I didn't want you to think I forgot about you or anything by being unforgivably late."

"I appreciate the thoughtfulness. You do look very nice, though. I bet there's never been a lovelier candidate," I told her honestly, blushing furiously.

Her cheeks reddened too. "Thank you. That's very nice of you to say."

"I mean every word."

* * *

We talked for hours, holding hands, and never running out of things to tell each other. It was wonderful.

"I'd like to hear how your parents met," I said, after a while. "Your mother was from France?"

"Yes," Zoey replied. She looked incredulous. "You really want to hear?"

I nodded, giving my best attempt at a winning smile to hopefully coax her. Her cheeks immediately turned pink, leaving me in shock that I could affect her so.

_I'm successfully flirting? This is doing wonders for my ego._

"Fine," she laughed. "I'll tell you."

The story went that Billy and Zoey's father became fast friends during basic training, and their friendship only deepened after the horrors of D-Day. The 101st was moving inland towards Paris when Edward Dubois saw Brigitte Lemieux standing in a crowd as they marched through a newly liberated town and instantly fell in love.

He dragged his buddy Billy to find the woman after they'd set up camp for the night and found her working at a small cantina with her friend Marceline Renard. Edward spent the next week or so wooing the lovely French girl- he had learned French in school, so he was also able to act as an interpreter for Billy, who hit it off with Marceline.

Their company soon moved out, but Edward didn't forget about his love. As soon as the war was declared over, two months later, he raced to find her and proposed to her on the spot. She accepted. It was then that she told him that she was pregnant with his child. Billy was a little slower in his own proposal, but both men returned home with war brides. They settled down in Westchester, where Edward took over the family business. He helped Billy start his own, a small cafe. Though he offered to give Rivers a position within his own company, the other man refused. He was content with the simple life.

"That's a very good story," I said. "Like a fairy tale."

_I can see where you get your love of fairy tale romances now._

"Except for the part where my mother died after only seven years of marriage," Zoey replied sadly. She fiddled with her empty coffee cup.

I cringed. "Yes, but your mother lived on in her children. And I'm sure your father loved his granddaughter, didn't he?"

"Very much. Even if he disliked her father immensely," she said.

Curiosity almost made me ask why, but I stopped myself. I had a feeling questions about her father's dislike for her brother-in-law would lead to a discussion about her sizable inheritance, and I didn't want to hear about that. I already knew Zoey was out of my league in every way possible. No need to dwell on it.

Despite that, I had never felt this at ease with anyone outside of my little "family" at Xavier's- certainly not Raven. I'd admired Raven's beauty, but there wasn't much we could say to each other. No common interests, different life philosophies. The only thing we had in common was our own self-loathing.

I hadn't realized it at the time, of course. I'd been seventeen and in love. But Zoey... with her it was different.

Maybe because I was older and a little wiser now. Or perhaps I'd known her for a kindred spirit the moment I set eyes on her. For whatever the reason, now that I had found the courage to speak to Zoey, I found myself opening up to her in a way I never had with anyone before.

We talked for so long that I completely lost track of time.

"I have to go," I noted reluctantly, finally noticing the time on my watch.

I only had ten minutes to get back to the Institute before dinner, and I wouldn't impose on Zoey two nights in a row. My stomach could only take so much.

She looked sad, but nodded. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes. I look forward to it," I said. After all, that was  _mostly_  true.

I rose to my feet, and Zoey did as well, to my surprise. She stepped closer and stood up on her tiptoes, putting her hands on my chest for balance, to kiss me on the cheek. Her lips felt like satin against my skin, and my cheek tingled like she'd burned me. The sensation spread over my entire body, down to my toes.

There was a goofy smile on my face when she settled back down onto her heels. I couldn't move for a moment, too spellbound by Zoey's face. I was like a deer caught in someone's headlights.

"I thought you said you had to go?" she teased.

I blinked, coming back to myself.

"Right," I agreed, ruefully.

Then, with one more squeeze of her hand, I left. I had to run to make it in time, but I managed. Maybe it was because I was flying, fueled by Zoey's kiss.


	19. Awkward Introductions

**Awkward Introductions**

The next day I was a nervous ball of energy, wondering if Zoey would want to see my lab while she was at the Institute. It was my refuge, my favorite place by far. I wanted to share it with her at some point.

_Um... maybe I should clean up a little? What's the protocol for having a girl visit your laboratory?_ Is _there a protocol?_

It was a lost cause from the start. My work space was by no means messy- there were no food wrappers or anything like that. But it definitely wasn't  _neat._

The counter space not taken up by my equipment was covered with notes and paperwork from my experiments. It seemed like I was the only one who could find anything in the disorder, but maybe I liked it that way.

One time, when we were working on renovations for the mansion to turn it into a school, Moira came in and looked for a blueprint of the building for half an hour while I was doing something else. I found it for her in under a minute and shrugged apologetically at her exasperated glare.

There wasn't much I could do, I decided. Hopefully Zoey wouldn't mind that my lab was a mess.

I wandered into the kitchen Friday afternoon feeling like if I stayed in my laboratory anymore I'd lose my mind. I pulled a Twinkie from my secret stash and stood there zoning out, savoring the creamy deliciousness and trying not to think about Zoey's visit.

Alex walked in. He grinned when he saw me- which meant either he needed me for something, or was itching for someone to make fun of. Personally, I hoped it was the former.

"Hey, Beast. You mind lifting the Camaro for me?" Alex asked.

"Forget how to work a jack?"

"One of the kids in my class bent the rod. It'd be great if you could fix that while you're down there...?" he said leadingly.

I frowned. "Depending on how bad it is, you may have to re-solder it. The integrity of the metal might be compromised."

"Quit the nerd speak and come help me," Alex griped.

With a heavy sigh, I followed him downstairs to the garage. I stuffed the other Twinkie I planned on eating in my pocket.

The Camaro was Alex's pride and joy. He'd done a lot of after-market pick ups to it that added about twenty-five miles per hour to its top speed, and completely redone the interior.

I wasn't much of a car person myself, but Zoey had surprisingly expressed an interest in such things. Her father had bought her a 1966 Aston Martin for her first car. It was one of her most prized possessions.

There was no point in unbending the rod for the jack, I decided upon examination. It had been folded to almost a right angle, and the tubing had come apart.

"Who did this, anyway?"

"Piotr. He didn't fit into the jack mount right and, well, you know how strong he is," Alex replied.

Definitely. Even when Piotr Rasputin was not in his organic-metal form, the young man was very strong. He was only thirteen but already over six feet tall.

"Indeed," I replied, unwrapping my Twinkie and getting in front of the car. I positioned one hand underneath the bumper. "Let me know when you're ready."

Alex laid out on a dolly with his toolbox in hand. "Go ahead."

Lifting the front end of the car was fairly easy. I stood there slowly munching on my snack, held in one hand, while the other held the car up. Alex slid under it to work.

"Nervous about today?" he asked.

_Yes, about you and Sean embarrassing me._

"A little."

"It'll be fine, Beast. You need to stop worrying so much. She obviously likes you, for some reason," Alex said sarcastically.

_Even when you're trying to be comforting, you just can't help yourself, can you?_

"You say stuff like that and then wonder why I get nervous," I muttered aloud.

"Aw, come on! I was just kidding."

"Uh huh."

At that moment a black convertible with the top down came up the drive, with a certain red-haired beauty behind the wheel. She looked like a movie star with her ruby red lipstick and cat-eye sunglasses, visible to me even from this distance. Olivia was in the passenger seat, looking ecstatic.

"Zoey's here, Alex," I said.

_Subtext: I'd like it if you hurried, please._

I shoved the rest of my Twinkie in my mouth and hurriedly swallowed.

"'K. Give me three more minutes."

Zoey parked along the roundabout in front of the school and hopped out of the car. She waved at me, her white teeth flashing in the June sunlight, as she went around to help Olivia. I waved back with the hand not holding onto the Camaro, an unbidden grin crossing my face.

"Hello," Zoey greeted me brightly, taking in the scene with a smile as she and Olivia stepped into the garage, hand in hand.

She looked very pretty today, wearing a white eyelet dress and little sunflower barrettes in her curls. Her nails were painted yellow to match.

"Hi."

_Look, I can lift the front end of a car with one hand! Please tell me you think that's attractive?_

"Livie, say hello to Mr. Hank," Zoey said, looking down at her niece.

"Hi, Mr. Hank. Are you Auntie Zoey's boyfriend now? She thinks you're dreamy. Especially for being able to lift a car up like that," Olivia announced.

_I suppose that answers my question, then._

Zoey's face turned green- that was the only way to describe it. The color was quickly followed by a fierce blush. Her eyes got wide and she snatched her hand away from her niece, who clapped both hands over her own mouth like she just realized what came out of it.

"Sorry, Auntie!"

Zoey merely rubbed her forehead and looked at her toes, clearly mortified over what Olivia just said.

Alex's laughter was audible from underneath the car.

_I hope you hit your head on the undercarriage._

I floundered for something to say to alleviate the embarrassment.

"Hello, Olivia. Your aunt is very nice for- um,  _thinking_  those things about me," I said. "And... I'd love to be your Auntie Zoey's boyfriend, if she'll have me."

Zoey looked up to meet my gaze, still a little red. A fresh blush came to her cheeks as she smiled at me.

_I think that was a "yes?"_

"You're going to make me barf, Beast," Alex grouched, as he rolled himself out from underneath the Camaro. "You're so-"

"Say anything further and I'll destroy the shocks on your car when I  _drop it_ ," I warned quickly.

"Yeah, yeah."

I set the car down carefully while Alex sat up and wiped off his hands. He tossed me the rag to do the same when he was done.

"This is Alex Summers. He teaches shop class here at the Institute," I explained. "Alex, this is Zoey Dubois and her niece Olivia Grey. Olivia is going to hopefully start school here soon."

Alex looked at them briefly, though his eyes lingered on Zoey a second too long for my liking.

"Hi," he said apathetically. Then his gaze shifted to the car they'd arrived in, and his tune changed drastically. "Is that an Aston Martin?"

"Yes. It's a 1966 Short Chassis Volante," Zoey replied.

"Damn. Do you know how rare those are?"

Zoey's eyebrows raised. "Yes. Do you?"

"Yeah, less than forty were made" Alex retorted.

"Thirty-seven, to be exact," she replied in a tight voice.

He looked mildly impressed as he turned towards me. "James Bond drove that car," Alex explained.

_Like I care?_

"A skirt shouldn't be driving it."

_Oh, no. You_ really  _shouldn't have said that._

"Actually, James Bond drove just a regular DB5. Short Chassis have DB6 bumpers and TR4 lights," Zoey argued flatly, glaring daggers at the blonde man. "And a _'skirt'_ can drive it if she wants to."

_She told_ you _, didn't she? Don't tell Zoey she can't do something because she's a woman._

"Your girl's a little touchy," Alex muttered, after a moment of stunned silence.

"Maybe she doesn't like to be called a 'skirt,'" I suggested firmly. Then I turned to Zoey and Olivia. "Let me show you inside."

Aunt and niece joined hands once more and followed me inside. I planned on bringing them to Charles, who was a much better tour guide than I.

"I'm sorry for that," I murmured to Zoey apologetically as I walked by her side.

"Don't be. Your friend embarrassed you, my niece embarrassed me. We're even," Zoey whispered back, her eyes sparkling.

I let out a sigh of relief.

"What do you think so far, Olivia?" I asked the little girl on Zoey's other side.

"It looks like a castle," Olivia replied in a hushed tone. "Will I get to live here?"

I glanced at Zoey, who gave a slight nod. "If you want to, yes."

"Will you be one of my teachers?" Olivia asked.

"No, I don't teach. I just research," I told her. "But I live here too. So maybe when Auntie Zoey comes to visit you she'll stop by to see me, too."

"Maybe. If I feel like sharing her," the little girl replied loftily.

Olivia appeared to be completely serious, but Zoey and I shared an amused glance. Her cheeks were a little red.

We reached Charles' study at that point. I knocked and opened the door when he gave me permission.

"Our visitors are here," I announced.

"Splendid. Hello, Ms. Dubois. Hello, Olivia. Ready for your grand tour?" Charles asked cheerfully.

Olivia nodded eagerly. Charles navigated his chair out from behind his desk, and passed by all of us out the door. The child immediately gravitated towards him, walking next to his wheelchair with her hand on top of his. I imagined them carrying on a lively conversation that we were completely ignorant of.

_Telepaths, I tell you._

"Mind if I tag along too?" I asked Zoey, who stepped out to follow them.

"Please do."


	20. Boyfriend?

**Boyfriend?**

Zoey smiled and linked our arms, holding onto my elbow with both hands. We trailed along behind the Professor and his new pupil. Since his commentary was completely telepathic and reserved for Olivia, I pointed things out to Zoey.

Sean was in the middle of teaching an English class when we popped in. Charles assured him we were just passing through- I think he wanted to show off the small class sizes of the Institute. As I turned to lead Zoey out the door Sean sent a smarmy grin my way and made a thumbs up signal. So apparently he approved.

Charles showed us which room would be Olivia's, on the second floor, and explained the system of dorm monitors to ensure that every young child was taken care of properly.

Finally, he led Olivia to one of the many play centers of the school, where children from the ages of six to nine did activities after classes were over for them under the supervision of an adult. Since by then it was only twenty minutes until dinner, there were perhaps sixteen children inside.

Olivia looked at the Professor and then her aunt with the question obvious in her eyes. Zoey nodded, smiling. The little girl ran over to hug her aunt and then turned and entered the room.

She immediately went over to a table where two girls were coloring with crayons. After shy introductions the other children welcomed her at their table.

Zoey let out a sigh of relief, watching her niece being accepted into the fold already. She looked up at me and smiled.

"Thank you, again," she whispered, looking a little teary-eyed.

_Please tell me those are happy tears._

I shook my head. I wanted to tell her that it was all for her, but that smacked of a disregard for Olivia. And that's not how I felt about the situation. I already had a fondness for the precocious child, Zoey or not.

Charles turned his chair around and grinned at us both.

"Thank you so much, Professor," Zoey repeated.

"It's an honor," he replied, waving away her thanks. "Now, would you like to stay for supper?"

"I think that would be alright, if I could check with my sister first," Zoey said.

"Splendid. Hank can show you to a phone. And then, if you're comfortable leaving Olivia here, you could be free to explore a little more."

"That sounds wonderful. Thank you."

The nearest phone was only two rooms over, in a teacher's office. Zoey dialed her sister's number and waited. Chloe answered after three rings. I couldn't help eavesdropping-  _again._

_"Hello?"_

"Hey, Chloe. It's me."

_"What do you want?"_

"Is it ok if Livie and I stay at the school for dinner?" Zoey asked, ignoring the surliness in her sister's voice.

_"Fine. Have her home before bedtime. Goodbye."_

"Will do. And she loves it here. Thanks for asking. 'Bye, sister dear," she said icily.

Zoey shook her head as she set the phone down. She attempted a smile for me when her eyes found mine, but her heart wasn't in it.

"Ready?"

I nodded and held my arm out for her. I thought she would like to see the gardens, so I led her outside.

Zoey's discontent was obvious, a little happiness from the afternoon lost from her sister's rudeness. Even the dazzling June sunshine didn't brighten her mood.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked gently.

She sighed and looked at me with a cloudy expression. "Not right now. Could you tell me something happy?"

"I think Olivia is going to do wonderfully here. You're an amazing aunt for standing up and having the courage to do what's best for her," I told her, after a moment's thought. "And since I know you can't be here every day, I promise I'll look out for her the best I can."

Zoey smiled softly and leaned her head against my arm as we reached the greenhouses. I opened the door for her.

"That actually helps a lot. Thank you," she murmured.

"No problem. Now, these are Moira's treasures," I announced, standing in the doorway while Zoey went farther inside the greenhouse.

She stopped to sniff at some violets and smiled dreamily. She was surrounded by lovely blooms but all I could think of was that she was the prettiest one of them all.

And then I realized I was staring at her again and fumbled for something else to say.

"Back when the school first started, she was too busy helping us get everything running to be out here much. But now that everything mostly runs smoothly Moira spends hours out here."

"I admire her work. This is beautiful," Zoey remarked. "You said that this was Professor Xavier's family home?"

"Yes, the mansion belonged to his step-father. After Cuba we retro-fitted it into a school. It probably wouldn't surprise you, but Alex and Sean make a good wrecking crew," I commented dryly, leading her out of the greenhouse and into the cooler air outside.

I'd told her a few of our escapades the day before, at the cafe. She knew what a mess we X-Men could make.

"And you? How did you help?"

"I mostly helped Charles with the legal side of things and rebuilding the machines that were damaged in Cuba," I explained, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

I didn't like thinking about those dark days, when I was coming to terms with my second mutation and Charles was so broken after everything that happened to him.

"It sounds like all of you are very close to him," Zoey noted.

"I suppose that's because he's helped us so much. All of us were rather afraid of using our powers when we first met him," I explained. "But we helped him, too. He tried to be strong and move forward after everything that happened, but we all knew he was hurting."

"You mentioned his sister and friend?"

"Yes. He lost his legs that day in Cuba, along with Raven and Erik. And then soon after he wiped Moira's memories and sent her away."

I was still angry with Raven for leaving her brother bleeding on that beach. Sean and Alex had been upset with Charles for what he did to Moira, though they said nothing to his face. I disagreed with decision privately, but I also understood his motives. It wasn't something he'd done lightly.

"But Moira's here now. Did he change his mind?" Zoey asked curiously.

"No. Moira's a very smart woman. She pieced together where we were using travel receipts from her job at the CIA. After she quit and lost the tail the agency had on her, Moira showed up on the front doorstep one day. She gave Charles the choice of sending her away again, but he didn't. He'd missed her too much. And the rest is history."

Zoey nodded slowly, digesting my story. Then she looked at me steadily. "And you? Who helped you through your pain?"

"My pain?"

"Yes, your pain. Your second mutation happened, and you lost Raven that day, too."

I looked at her sharply- I hadn't mentioned my relationship with Raven to her at all. "How'd you-?"

"The way you say her name," Zoey replied, smiling sadly. "Like it's something secret."

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just stared at my feet awkwardly. I didn't want to talk about Raven with Zoey, not in the slightest.

"Not today?" she asked gently.

"Not today," I agreed, relieved that Zoey wasn't going to press me further about my failed relationship and all the mistakes I'd made.

_I love you so much, Zoey._

We walked in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again.

"I'm sorry if you felt put on the spot after what Livie said earlier."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I thought that maybe you felt like you had to answer 'yes' when she asked if you were my boyfriend now," Zoey explained, her cheeks flushing prettily.

I shook my head quickly. "I don't know how much of a boyfriend I'll be, but I want to try. If you'll have me, that is."

"I'll have you," she said firmly. She stopped walking and faced me. I turned and allowed her to slip each of her hands into mine. "You're very easy to talk to, now that you actually  _talk_."

"You make it easy," I replied, grinning through my blush. "I feel like I've found a kindred spirit. Maybe I saw that from the very beginning, but I was too afraid to do more."

"Can I ask why you started to buy my mochas in the first place?"

"I overheard Olivia tell you that her father believed you'd never catch a man, if you kept trying for your degree. I wanted to show you, just in case you were having doubts, that that wasn't true. Any man would be lucky to have you. And..." I felt a little tongue-tied, but pressed on. "Everything I did- I just wanted to make you happy and see you smile. Even if you didn't know it was me."

Zoey smiled and reached up to slip her hands around my neck, standing on tiptoe. For a terrifying moment I didn't know where to put my own hands, but let them settle on her tiny waist.

Now our faces were only inches apart, and my heart rate accelerated accordingly. I was afraid that within a minute my hands would be clammy enough that the sweat would sink through Zoey's dress.

"I know you're scared," she whispered, green eyes boring into mine. "About what could happen. Maybe I am, too. But we can take this slow, ok?"

"I watched you for three and a half months before speaking to you, Zoey. I am the _king_ of taking it slow," I muttered.

She pressed her forehead into my chest while she shook with giggles. But then her gaze trapped me when she looked back up once more.

I felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only her. Zoey was enough to fill every lonely hole in my heart and make me complete again- and yet so much more, just by being herself.

This time it was me who started to lean in, taking it slow be damned. She closed her eyes, face upturned and lips slightly parted-


	21. Meet the Parents

  **Meet the Parents**

"Hey Beast! It's time for dinner!" Alex called out.

I instantly pulled back slightly, embarrassed at our audience.

_Thanks, Alex. Thanks_ a lot.

He was standing at the edge of the terrace, looking very amused. I had a feeling Alex had been watching for a minute or two, waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt us.

Zoey, with my hands still at her waist, looked annoyed at the disturbance. Her hands balled up into fists on my chest as she glared over at Alex.

"Want me to fry him?" she muttered.

I was startled into a laugh. "Can you do that?"

In answer, one of the topiary plants right next to Alex erupted into flames.

"Holy shit!" he yelled, jumping back.

He whirled around in panic, trying to see where the fire had come from. Failing that, Alex ran to the side of the mansion and grabbed a watering hose to put out the spontaneous blaze.

At this point both Zoey and myself were finding it difficult to stay upright, we were laughing so hard. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief and mirth as she held onto me for support, her bell-like giggles singing through the air and making the summer sky seem even brighter than before.

In that moment Zoey's laugh became my favorite sound in the entire world.

* * *

At dinner Olivia sat with the other children, though Zoey purposely placed herself where she could see her niece. I sat next to her and introduced her to everyone. She was very amiable, and everyone seemed to like her. The way she seamlessly fit into the group of people I held most dear in this world (after her, now) made me quite happy.

After dinner I walked the two of them back to the car.

"I'll see you Sunday," I promised, after saying good bye to Olivia. The little girl hopped in the car happily.

"Sunday?" Zoey asked.

"Mr. Rivers invited me to dinner," I explained. Suddenly I felt uncertain. "Was that ok?"

"Of course!" she said brightly. "Billy must think you're a good guy, then. He knows these kinds of things."

"Is he... is that an ability of his?" He didn't smell like a mutant, but if it was a weak enough power I might not be able to.

"No, not like that. He's just a good judge of character," Zoey replied.

"Oh. I'm honored then, I suppose," I said.

We stood there for a moment just smiling at each other. Neither of us wanted to say good-bye.

"Auntie?" Olivia called, sounding confused as to the delay.

Zoey shook herself. "One second, Livie," she promised. She gave me a shy smile. "I'll see you Sunday, Hank."

Her eyes drifted over to Olivia, who was watching us avidly, and then at me. Her smile became a little rueful. I got the message. Our first kiss would have to wait.

"Until then," I agreed.

Zoey stepped closer for a hug, which I gladly gave her. I liked how her small body fit against me- it felt like she was made to be there, in my arms. I inhaled the scent of her hair and kissed her curls before breaking the embrace.

She blew me a kiss as she got into the driver's seat. I was grinning like a love-struck idiot as she drove away.

* * *

Sunday evening could not come quickly enough. I was ready much too early, but couldn't help myself. I was very nervous- it felt like I was having an official "meet-the-parents" dinner, and I hadn't even kissed Zoey. It didn't matter that I'd already interacted with Billy and Marceline plenty of times before- this new context made the meal quite nerve-wracking.

I found a bottle of wine to give as a gift, and then cut flowers for both Marceline and Zoey from Moira's greenhouse (with permission, of course, or Moira would've killed me) on a whim. Lilies, for Mrs. Rivers, and violets for Zoey.

I took the Bentley again because I didn't consider myself flashy enough to drive the Mustang or the Cadillac. I pulled up in front of the address Billy gave me at 5:55, feeling a little disappointed that Zoey's car wasn't there.

Maybe she walked? Her apartment was only four streets over. Not an arduous journey for her, considering that she walked to the cafe all the time, and that was seven blocks away.

I sat there debating on whether I should just go knock for a minute or two before realizing that I was sitting outside someone's house like a weirdo.

I gathered my gifts and went to the front door of the modest house in front of me. My knuckles barely rapped on the door before Billy answered, faded denim eyes all atwinkle.

"Hey, kid," he greeted me in a hushed tone. "Come on in."

"Thank you, sir," I replied, making sure my feet were clean on the mat. Billy made a "quieter" motion with his hand, to my confusion. I lowered my voice accordingly. "Uh- why are we whispering?"

"Listen."

I heard it then. Zoey's voice- and she was singing. Terribly, I might add- the girl couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. The sound brought a smile to my face.

_She is_ so _cute._

"She hasn't sung like that since her father died," Billy said quietly. "She told me once there was nothing left to sing for anymore."

I looked at him sharply. The smiling, laughing girl I'd come to know over the past week didn't match the description her godfather was giving me at all.

However sad Zoey might have had been before, it sounded as if her depression was finally lifting.

_Is he trying to imply that_ I _have something to do with that?_

Billy must've seen my confusion because he smirked and said, "Zoey is a soldier, kid. She knows how to hold it together to get the job done."

I nodded.

_Noted._

"But she's been much happier since you showed up and started bringing her flowers and things," he added. "So thank you."

I honestly couldn't think of anything to say to that.  _"You're welcome,"_  seemed rather arrogant, so I said nothing. My shoes were suddenly much too interesting.

With a more sincere grin, Billy made a "come with me" motion of his hand. I followed him, moving silently through the house to the kitchen in the back.

We first encountered Marceline, who was setting the table with her back to us.

_"Zoey, light the candles, please!"_  the older woman called to the kitchen in French. "Zoey!"

The singing cut off and Zoey appeared in the doorway. She snapped her fingers, and not only did the candles on the table light, but the ones on the walls and in pretty decorative pieces lit as well.

Then she saw Billy and I standing there. Her face lit up in a huge smile.

"Hi, Hank," she said brightly.

Marceline whirled around, startled that I was behind her. My lightness of foot had struck again.

_Maybe I should start whistling so people know I'm coming._

Her expression immediately became welcoming. She clearly knew I was aware that Zoey was a mutant. Maybe she even knew I was a mutant too, though I doubted Zoey had told her exactly what I was. At least I hoped so.

"Oh, Hank! So good to see you!" Marceline said cheerfully.

"You too, ma'am. These are for you," I told her, holding out the lilies and wine.

She gushed over the gifts, seeming well pleased with the wine choice. I'd grabbed a red Burgundy, though I couldn't drink it myself. Alcohol was a surefire way to make me lose my inhibitions, and that was definitely a _bad_ idea.

While Marceline was talking, Zoey made her way over and wrapped her arms around me. I was delighted to return the embrace.

"These are for you," I said, presenting the flowers with a blush after she pulled away.

"Oh, thank you," Zoey said, looking shyly pleased. She reached up to kiss my cheek, making my face heat up even more. "You're so sweet."

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. We're making onion soup, salad, _boeuf en croute_ , potatoes Dijonnaise, cheese and fruit, and then _creme brulee_ ," Marceline said proudly. "Zoey made the soup, potatoes and dessert."

_Oh boy. Return of the terrible potatoes._

"That sounds absolutely wonderful," I lied glibly.

I made small talk with Billy in the living room while the females finished up, my offers of help having been rejected out of hand.

Dinner actually went very well. Zoey, knowing by now that I would not brag about myself, told her godparents that I graduated Harvard at the age of fifteen and knew several languages. Billy and Marceline were impressed.

A little snag occurred when Billy broke out the wine I'd brought, along with four glasses.

"Oh, no thank you," I said, trying to be polite. "I'll just stick to water."

"But you can't enjoy  _boeuf en croute_  without wine!" Marceline pressed.

I cast my eyes away, desperately trying to think of an excuse.

Zoey, ever perceptive, noticed this. I saw a flash of understanding cross her face- she knew why alcohol was a bad idea for me.

"Hank was saying to me the other day that he can't hold his liquor worth anything," she said suddenly. "Didn't you tell me about how you had one glass of wine with dinner once and fell asleep at the table?"

"There's no need to mention that," I mumbled, hopefully in a convincingly sheepish voice. "It's embarrassing."

"And admitting to me that you watched me for almost four months wasn't?" Zoey teased. "You're so funny."

She reached for my hand, and I quickly turned mine over so our fingers could thread together. I gave a gentle squeeze, silently communicating my gratitude.

_Thank you, Zoey. For everything._


	22. Can I?

**Can I?**

"How'd the board meeting go on Friday, Zoey?" Billy asked as we all dug into our food.

The soup was very salty and the potatoes were crunchy, but of course I kept my mouth shut. I could _swear_ that Billy gave me a wink as I made a rather painful swallow of food. So I wasn't the only one, then.

_Zoey, cooking is not one of your talents._

"We're up. I offered to buy out Frank Burton's shares, but he refused. It still irritates him that the company hasn't completely fallen apart with me at the wheel," Zoey muttered, picking at her food.

"Plenty of people who want to see you fail," Billy said, frowning.

"Just ignore them, Zoey. Show them all what you're made of," Marceline told her.

I remembered what Zoey wrote in her letter, in regards to being afraid of what her next step in life would be. So many people wanted her to fail miserably, and she was terrified of disappointing the few who wanted her to succeed.

Wordlessly, I reached out and touched her shoulder in an attempt to be reassuring.

"Has Zoey told you about the family business, Hank?" Bill asked.

I shook my head.

"Why not?" Marceline scolded, looking at Zoey reprovingly.

"He never asked, and I took it to be a good sign that Hank wasn't after me for my money like all of those jerks Nick set me up with," she retorted, looking both defensive and embarrassed.

The married couple exchanged glances.

"That makes some kind of sense, I suppose," Billy said finally. "But Hank isn't any of those boys. Have you mentioned them?"

Zoey shook her head, eyes downcast.

"I don't need to hear about any of this," I cut in, suddenly full of foreboding. I didn't want to delve into topics that would upset her.

"But you probably should. Just in case Grey tries that nonsense again."

So they told me the whole terrible business.

Nicholas Grey was not well-liked by Billy or Mr. Dubois when he started to hang around Chloe. He was a twenty-seven year old man, flirting with a sixteen year old girl. He'd grown up in the area, and knew of the Dubois family. Though Edward Dubois made his distaste for the man quite clear, the younger man kept trying to poke his nose into the family business- the Dubois had been making vulcanized rubber since the nineteenth century. Edward warned his daughter to be wary of the man, but of course that made their relationship all the more enticing. She became pregnant soon after, securing Grey's place in the family forever. There was a shotgun wedding.

That in itself didn't jade the family's view of Grey, considering the manner of Edward and Brigette's own wedding. What worried everyone was Nicholas' determination to worm his way into a position of power in the Dubois company- and his habit of demeaning women. It became apparent that he had no respect for his new wife, and used her frailties as a yardstick to judge all females by. Zoey, with her strong business sense and genius-level IQ, completely baffled him. And he was the sort to treat what he did not understand with contempt.

Grey seemed to believe that by virtue of his marriage to Edward's oldest child he was guaranteed a slice of the Dubois family fortune. He demanded a chance to prove himself as a good businessman, and it was granted. Zoey described to me the circumstances of his factory in a detached voice. Objectively speaking, there was no way the man should've failed.

But he did, by stacking his management with his friends, who were useless, and wasting his start-up money. His venture folded within nine months. Edward Dubois encouraged his daughter to divorce her husband, but Chloe was in the man's clutches too strongly. She refused, even under threat of disinheritance. So Dubois cut her out of his will, infuriating Grey. He inexplicably blamed his wife for his own failings.

He had hopes of rising to power in the company by taking Zoey's place, if she wasn't eighteen by the time Edward Dubois died. And for awhile it looked like it was a possibility, as cancer wasted the older man away. But he held on until a week after Zoey's eighteenth birthday.

Zoey wasn't one to hold grudges. Though wary, she wanted to keep peace in the family for her beloved niece's sake. Therefore she allowed Grey to offer his advice as she stepped into her new role as CEO of the company. She also moved into an apartment of her own, allowing her sister's family to live in the family home, rent-free, out of the goodness of her heart. But unfortunately Nicholas' suggestions were bad. Zoey had no choice but to ignore them, for the good of the company. Of course this angered Grey.

Nicholas, failing in his attempt to manage the company through Zoey, decided to start setting her up on blind dates with his friends. Again, trying to keep the family harmonious, she agreed. Five men later, she finally told her brother-in-law to stop. Zoey was much too clever for the transparent plan (Grey intended for one of his friends to marry the young heiress, and then share the spoils between them), though she did give the men a chance.

Since then, when Grey's last hope disappeared, things had barely been civil between them. He saw Zoey's success as a personal affront, like it was at his own expense. He had a job and lived in a beautiful house for free, but he did not spend wisely. He hated Zoey for "stealing" from him.

I had a gut feeling that Nicholas Grey would bring us nothing but trouble.

* * *

I gave Zoey a ride home after dinner was over.

We were silent until we were almost to her apartment. I didn't think it was awkward, considering it was only a two minute drive.

"Do you think I'm some kind of gullible, naive little girl now?" Zoey asked, rather suddenly.

_Maybe a little naive. But I admire that you tried so hard to keep peace within your family._

"Not really," I replied honestly. "It sounded like you were just trying to do right by your family, no matter how hard your brother-in-law makes it for you."

Knowing what I did now about her dating history, I could understand why she was so willing to give her secret admirer a chance.

Zoey Dubois was a CEO, a doctoral candidate and a certified genius. But she was also an eighteen year old girl yearning for someone to love her for who she was, rather than her inheritance.

Someone bringing her flowers and such things appealed to her romantic nature, encouraged from an early age by her own parents' love story. So she decided to give me a chance, rather than running for the hills, away from the stalker who liked to watch her drink mochas like she admittedly probably should have.

At that moment we arrived at her apartment, and I parked easily. I turned off the car and helped her out.

My thoughts were rather dark at the moment. I couldn't help thinking what a wonderful person Zoey was, and how I could never deserve her in a million years. She had so much compassion, such a pure heart. She had no business being involved with someone like me.

I took Zoey's hand and assisted her out of the car. Then she was standing in front of me, an angel in the flesh.

"Can I kiss you?" she whispered hesitantly. I could see the blush staining her cheeks in the dark.

It felt like I missed a step going downstairs. Here I was, thinking of all the reasons Zoey shouldn't be with me, and she wanted to kiss me.

Thoughts of my many faults fled as I stared into those brilliant green eyes of hers. Never mind what I feared could happen if I gave in and kissed her like I so desperately wanted- she believed in me, and because of that I could almost believe in myself.

_To hell with it._

I leaned in wordlessly, cupping her cheek with one hand, and pressed my lips to hers.

All of those cliches about a perfect first kiss making the world stop moving, suspending a moment in time are completely true. Or at least they were for me.

My mind captured random details even as I lost myself in how it felt to kiss Zoey. Her lips were soft and warm as they moved against mine, and everything from her lovely scent filling my nose to the sweet taste of her mouth burned itself into my psyche forever. I'd never experienced something so wonderful, so vibrant and passionate in my entire life.

We pulled away from each other slowly, reluctantly. I let my hand drop away from her face as I tried to catch my breath. Zoey's eyes were glittering, like jewels, and I felt like her soul was shining through those emerald depths and into mine, making me feel a little lost. In that moment I knew she had my heart completely.

I'd done it. I'd kissed her and not lost it.

And now I wanted to do it again.

When my hands slipped to her waist and back Zoey grinned at me in such a way that my stomach did a somersault. Utterly seductive, even if she didn't yet realize what kind of effect that look had on me.

I kissed her again, like there was nothing else in the world but her. Because for me, there _wasn't_. I pulled her closer, loving the way her body fit against mine. Zoey's fingers reached up to bury her fingers in my hair, and she pressed herself against me. Her enthusiastic response encouraged me on. I poured all of the emotion I'd felt for her since the day I first saw her into that kiss.

Then suddenly there was heat, shimmering like a mirage behind my eyelids.

I was kissing her with such fervor that at first I ignored the incandescent feeling spooling through my veins, traveling outward from the pit of my stomach. In the back of my head I knew what it meant, but I didn't want to stop. I'd been wanting to kiss Zoey for months, and now I was. Wasn't this amazing?

But the fire within me was quickly reaching a crescendo.

_Oh no. Too much- too much!_


	23. Olivia's First Day

**Olivia's First Day**

I pulled back, gasping for air, and moved away from Zoey like she was a firebrand that had burned me.

Bewilderment was quickly followed by dismay in her lovely features, and her eyes suddenly seemed over-bright, shining in the light of the full moon above us. Like she was about to cry.

_No no no. Please don't cry-_

Zoey's distress was truly abhorrent to me. I couldn't bear it. I shut my own eyes to block out her pain while I attempted to regain the shreds of my self-control. I would explain once I'd reined myself in.

That had been close. Too close.

_Focus focus focus._

"Hank?"

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. I kept my eyes closed for a further ten seconds, until I was sure I wouldn't lose my mind. Then I opened them again and looked at her pleadingly. "I almost lost control."

She smiled, somehow managing to look shy and terribly sexy at the same time. All trace of tears were gone, thankfully. "You're doing wonders for my ego, just so you know," Zoey teased.

_Thank God she's not angry. It sounds like I'm forgiven._

"Glad to be of service," I muttered dryly.

Zoey laughed, but quickly became more serious. "Was that terribly difficult for you?"

"Not until the end. I got a little carried away," I admitted sheepishly.

"So did I," she retorted, with another captivating smile that was somewhat incongruous to the blush blooming on her cheeks.

I needed to get away from her before I got tempted into completely losing it. And I could tell she wasn't even trying to be alluring. Zoey was just that irresistible to me.

"You make it hard to stop."

I snorted, a rather ungentlemanly thing to do. "You have no idea."

She giggled again and tentatively stepped a little closer. My body yearned towards her so much that it felt magnetic. It was a conscious effort not to reach over and pull her into my arms again. I didn't trust myself for that, though.

"See you Tuesday?"

"Yes," I agreed. "You will. And I promise I'll be there when Olivia gets dropped off tomorrow."

"Thank you. That means a lot."

Zoey paused, like she was suffering an internal debate. Then she stood on tiptoe to press her lips to mine, so quickly that it was over and she was out of my reach before my over-heated brain could register that I  _should_  grab her and kiss her harder.

_That's ok, Zoey. You can steal kisses from me all day long._

"Good night, Hank," she said, smiling. "Drive safe."

"Night, Zoey. I will."

* * *

Nicholas and Chloe Grey dropped Olivia and her things off at Xavier's bright and early the next morning. The two adults looked as if something disgusting was under their noses when they saw me standing there to greet them with Charles.

_Trust me, I'm not happy to see you either. But a promise is a promise._

Olivia was like a completely different child when around her parents, I noticed. She fidgeted and looked about ready to run away from them. Twice on their way from the car to the front step, where we were waiting, Olivia tried to take off and run towards us in her eagerness to greet us.

And twice her father yanked her back into place next to him. I shifted uneasily, disliking the harsh manner of his actions.

"Good morning," Charles said cheerfully when they reached us. "How are you this morning?"

They didn't deign to answer such a pleasant question.

_How rude._

"Hi, Professor. Hi, Mr. Hank. Have you seen my auntie?" Olivia asked, before her mother tried to shush her.

She seemed to be almost _vibrating_ with excitement at the prospect of going to school. And perhaps being away from her parents, for which I blamed her not a whit.

"I have," I replied, speaking only to the child. "I had dinner with her, Mr. Billy, and Ms. Marceline last night. She was very sad she couldn't be here today."

Nicholas Grey eyed me angrily, while Olivia nodded somberly in understanding.

I kept my face neutral as I sized the man up. With the knowledge I had now, I felt it would be a bad idea to underestimate his determination to get to Zoey's fortune. Grey was full of self-righteousness, and believed she had stolen what was rightfully his. He was the sort who blamed everyone else for his own failings, and felt that he himself could do no wrong. I wondered what it was like to have that kind of self-assurance?

Not that my perpetually-awkward self would know.

But then something changed. It was like watching a movie on a back-light projector, seeing the way Grey came to a conclusion I'd known was coming all along. If he couldn't get Zoey to date his obliging friends, maybe he could make friends with the man she  _had_  chosen? And then work to control her through that?

_Keep dreaming, you miscreant._

Grey's face quickly rearranged itself into more welcoming lines, though clearly Chloe hadn't gotten the memo yet.

Charles shot me a look that spoke volumes, obviously warning me. I'd already done the math, though.

_Hank-_

_Yes, I know. I've already been warned about him._

"Why don't we show you to Olivia's room?" Charles asked cheerfully, breaking the awkward silence between us all.

They agreed. I noticed Mrs. Grey giving her husband an odd look when his reply was less-than-surly. It was almost amusing, the look of betrayal on her face.

She was surprisingly complimentary when we arrived at Olivia's room, voicing approval over the small area. She even assisted in putting away her daughter's things, which thankfully didn't take long. It made me feel slightly relieved, seeing Chloe act the way a mother should.

"Now, it's time for Olivia to go to class. I will personally escort her there. Would you like to see her classroom?" Charles asked.

The Grey's shook their heads. I guess Chloe's enthusiasm could only go so far. And so much for the better anyway, so they wouldn't see some of the physical mutations of the children here. They were still unaware of the true nature of this school.

"Very well. Hank, if you could?"

I nodded. "Follow me, please."

Mr. Grey didn't wait long to employ his new tactic. "So, you're Zoey's new boyfriend?"

"Yes."

For some reason I didn't even like it when he said her name. Probably because I knew what ill intentions he had for her.

"Do you teach here?"

"No, I'm the school doctor," I replied.

"Oh. Well, would you like to come to dinner sometime?" Grey offered. I heard a soft intake of breath from his wife.

"Certainly. Name a day," I said mildly.

"Wednesday sound fine? Six o'clock?"

"Ok."

I pasted a sickly sweet smile on my face as I left them at the front door. I knew that Nicholas was expecting (and hoping) it to just be me at dinner that night, but he was in for a grand disappointment if I could help it. I knew him for what he was- even if Billy hadn't told me all of the horrible things Grey had done, I would never have trusted that man after watching him almost hit Zoey.

_Do you think I have the memory of a goldfish?_

* * *

At dinner that night I made a point of going to Olivia's table and kneeling down next to the little girl's seat.

"Hi, Mr. Hank!" she said brightly. Her megawatt smile reminded me of her aunt.

"Hello, Olivia. How did it go today?"

"It was really really good," Olivia replied, her feet swinging freely off the side of her chair. "Courtney and Mary let me color with them and the Professor is going to teach me to block people out of my head when I touch them and Mrs. Hopkins told me I did good because I can read and write and do multi- multipli-"

_Wow. Was that all one sentence?_

"Multiplication?" I supplied.

"Yeah, that. Auntie Zoey taught me how already," she announced proudly.

"Well that's nice. Do you like it here so far?"

Olivia nodded eagerly. "Very much."

"I'm happy to hear that," I replied, with a genuine smile.

_Yes, I did the right thing. I was incredibly intrusive, but it still helped her so much..._

"Dinner time!" Mrs. Taylor, the school's cook, called out.

"I better get going," I said.

I began to stand up, but Olivia stopped me by throwing her arms around my neck. To say it startled me would definitely be an understatement. But still, it was nice. The little girl trusted me, and I felt that was an honor.

"Thank you, Mr. Hank."

"Y-you're welcome, Livie."

_She really is a sweet child,_ I thought as I headed back towards my own seat.

* * *

That night I called Zoey to let her know how Olivia's first day went and that her brother-in-law had invited me to dinner on Wednesday.

_"What do you mean, he invited you to dinner?"_  Zoey asked, dumbfounded.  _"Like he wants to be your friend?"_

"Yes. I think you know why," I said quietly.

_"Yeah, I do. Too bad Billy got to you first and warned you about him."_

"That doesn't even matter. I'll never forgive him for trying to hit you, Zoey," I told her seriously. "It seemed like he only wanted me to come, but..."

_"Of course I'll come,"_  Zoey agreed.

We both laughed. Nicholas Grey was in for a nasty surprise on Wednesday.


	24. I Think You're Wonderful

**I Think You're Wonderful**

The next afternoon I met Zoey at Marceline's.

At four o'clock precisely the door opened and her lovely scent wafted to me like some sort of siren's song.

"Hi, Billy," she called.

And then a small hand touched my shoulder and I turned, a welcoming smile already on my face. I was greeted with a light kiss on the lips that sent a jolt of electricity down to my toes.

"Hello, Hank," Zoey said.

"H-hi, Zoey," I practically croaked, still recovering from the kiss.

_I am such a moron._

"I got your drink already," I told her, gesturing to the cup in front of me.

"And flowers, too, I see," she noted, grinning through her blush. "Thank you."

We chatted for a long time. I'd never considered myself particularly witty or funny, but Zoey seemed to think I was, if the way she laughed at my jokes was any indication. She was constantly giggling, or at least smiling.

The way she looked at me... for the first time in my life, I felt like I had something to offer the opposite sex simply by being myself. She made me feel things I didn't think I was capable of. Something bordering on self-confidence, and I was simultaneously nervous and ebullient all at once. I was afraid to examine my emotions too closely.

For now I simply allowed myself to just bask in the glow of her presence, her light. Just being around Zoey lifted me out of the metaphorical winter of my life, the depression and hopelessness I never thought I'd escape after so many years. She took my hand and led me gently into springtime.

_Could this truly be happening to me?_

* * *

"You know, the Professor mentioned that you can speak several languages, but I don't know what they are," Zoey mused after a while.

I ducked my head, reflexively shy as usual. "Let's see... There's English, obviously. Then German, French, Spanish, Japanese, Arabic, and Russian."

She frowned. "That's only seven. I thought the Professor said you could speak eight?"

"I know Latin, but you can't really  _speak_  it," I explained. "Since it's a dead language and all."

Belatedly, I realized how pedantic and arrogant that sounded, but Zoey was giggling. I let out a mental sigh of relief.

"Is there anything you can't do?" she teased.

"Talk to people. And I have no artistic ability whatsoever," I admitted.

There were plenty of things I couldn't do, but those were the first ideas that popped into my head.

_The things I can't do would fill a book._

"You can talk to people, you just choose not to," Zoey scolded. "And as for art... I thought you were an inventor?"

I frowned, unsure of the direction of her thoughts. "Occasionally."

"Art doesn't have to be paint on canvas," she said, running her index finger along the edge of her coffee cup.

For some reason, the action caught my attention. The motion seemed almost... sensual, somehow. I fixated on it, watching her purple nail skim along, and pictured her doing it to my skin instead-

_Whoa. Focus._

"Art is about creating something beautiful, and I'd say a machine that works counts. Elegance in design, and all that," Zoey announced, with a small shrug and a grin. "So as far as I'm concerned, you're wonderful."

My face felt so warm you could've fried an egg on my forehead.

* * *

Dinner time came all too soon.

I wasn't ready for it, not yet. I wanted more time with Zoey. So instead of excusing myself, I plucked up my courage and asked her to dinner with me.

"Would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight?"

Zoey gave me a teasing smile. "Are you asking me on a date, Hank?"

"I am, yes," I replied, feeling my face heat up.

_Do I have to be so awkward?_

"I could cook you dinner back at my place, if you'd like," she offered, noting my discomfit.

It was difficult to keep my expression from giving away my alarm at the thought of eating Zoey's cooking again so soon.

_Come on, McCoy. Poker face._

"I'd really like to take you out," I mumbled.

She blushed prettily, like she was flattered. "Ok. Let's go."

It was our first date, in an official sense. I took her to an Italian restaurant a few streets over, and thankfully it went very well. Or at least I didn't make a complete fool of myself.

Mainly because I kept telling myself this was no different from our coffee conversations, and the "date" label shouldn't daunt me.

Afterwards I walked Zoey home and kissed her good night. This time I knew what to expect, and was able to hold myself together much better. I was even starting to enjoy the liquid fire that sang through my veins when I kissed Zoey. It was hard to stop, but I pulled away before I came anywhere near losing control.

_Who knew I was a bit of a masochist underneath it all?_

* * *

The next afternoon, at four o'clock, Zoey appeared in a little flash of light right in front of where I sat waiting for her on the front stoop of the school. Of course I jumped about a mile.

"Oops, sorry," Zoey said sheepishly, with a smile.

"It's ok," I assured her, having recovered myself. "Hi."

"Hello."

"How do you do that?" I asked curiously, standing up. "Are you teleporting?"

I couldn't stop the grin from crossing my face. The scientist in me was jumping up and down, eager to discover the extent of Zoey's abilities.

"No. I can dissociate myself into heat and travel through the air that way. When I get to where I'm going I pull myself back together," she explained, shrugging.

Zoey disappeared.

I concentrated, trying to see if I could smell her or sense her in any way-

There.

It was difficult to discern the difference in air temperature, considering the oppressive warmth of the summer afternoon, but I could just barely feel the soft brush of a more intense heat across my face.

I grinned, envisioning Zoey touching my cheek tenderly while she was invisible.

_My beautiful little fire sprite._

And then she was there in front of me again, the lady of summer herself heralded by a small flash of white light. She was all warmth, and sunlight. Everything that was good and beautiful.

"You're amazing," I said simply.

_And I am desperately attracted to you._

I held out my arms, and Zoey fell into my embrace with a rather modest and shy expression. When she looked up at me I caught her mouth in a thorough kiss, relishing the fire that flowed from her and into my bloodstream. I kissed her because she let me, and I was so incredibly grateful for the chance to love her.

"And you said you didn't know if you'd be a good boyfriend," she scoffed when we came up for air.

My forehead dipped down to lean against hers, so Zoey's emerald green eyes completely filled my vision. The sight was both mesmerizing and calming all at once.

"I still don't know. I feel like I'm playing with fire," I murmured honestly, thinking of her abilities and the thin line I walked every time we kissed. "Literally."

She chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling only a few inches from mine. The sound was enough to immediately make the heat start to move through my veins once more. It only intensified when she kissed me again. This time slow and lingering-

"See?" I asked breathlessly, pulling away. "You're trying to kill me."

"Am not," Zoey retorted in a lofty tone. "I want to keep you, not kill you."

And then she giggled at the look on my face, which I assumed looked rather love-struck and foolish.

_She wants to keep me! She wants_ me _!_

I shook myself, trying to recover my composure.

"Would you like to see Olivia?"

"Very much."

We spent the rest of the time until dinner with the little girl, who was ecstatic to see her aunt. She told us all about her class, and the new friends she was making. Olivia was in an earthly paradise, here.

It didn't even sound like she missed her parents at all. Not that I blamed her.

All too soon it was time to face the couple in question. We said goodbye to Olivia and hopped in the Bentley for the short drive to the Dubois mansion.

"Ready?" I asked Zoey, after I'd helped her from the car.

She nodded calmly and slipped her arm into mine. Together we walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

It rather felt like we were going off to battle.


	25. A Heated Exchange

**A Heated Exchange**

Chloe Grey's face, arranged into a welcoming smile, froze at the sight of her sister on my arm when she opened the door.

"Hel- what are you doing here?"

I almost laughed at her consternation, which was rather comical. Zoey's mere presence set Chloe on her back foot already.

_Does she_ ever  _greet Zoey with a smile when she answers the door?_

"Hi, Chloe. Hank said we got invited to dinner," Zoey said brightly.

Now the older sister looked like someone had told her she needed to squish a bug with her expensive shoes.

_"'We?'"_ she whispered faintly.

"I thought that's what your husband meant when he invited me," I explained innocently. "A double date of some sort."

I held out the carnations I'd picked for Chloe. "These are for you."

Her cheeks got pink as she accepted the flowers, and I couldn't help feeling a swell of pity for the poor woman. I had a suspicion that Nicholas Grey put forth little effort towards romancing his wife anymore, if he ever had at all.

Did Chloe regret her choices now? Did she wish that she had listened to her father and left her husband years ago?

It was hard to imagine that the woman in front of me, who gave off an air of being rather downtrodden and depressed, was the same age as I was. Sadness and care made her seem much older.

"Come in," Chloe finally said. But her tone told me that she truly wanted to tell us to go away.

What followed was probably the most uncomfortable meal I'd ever sat through, and that conviction is coming from a man who regularly had someone (Alex) throw food at him during dinner.

The closest _second_ most awkward meal I'd ever been through had to be that first night after Moira found her way back to the mansion. All the unresolved issues and silent accusations hung so thickly in the air that it could choke you.

"Livie's doing wonderfully at Xavier's," Zoey gushed over baked chicken and green beans, which didn't taste all that bad. Chloe was obviously a much better cook than her younger sister.

_Don't worry, Zoey. I still love you._

"She's making friends already, isn't she, Hank?"

"Yes. And Mrs. Hopkins, her teacher, has nothing but praise for her," I agreed.

I almost added  _"you should be proud of her,"_  but made the prudent decision not to. This audience wouldn't exactly approve of such a comment, so I left it at that.

Zoey chattered away about inconsequential things over dinner, ignoring her sister and brother-in-law's true motives for inviting me over. She pretended to be oblivious to the looks on our dinner mates' faces because of her very presence. Their expressions were rather reminiscent of a person sucking on lemons.

I tried to offer replies as best I could, but the atmosphere was much too oppressive and uncomfortable for me. I lacked the indomitable spirit Zoey so obviously possessed. I admired her ability to soldier on in such disagreeable circumstances.

_Who knows? Maybe she's used to this by now._

"How'd you two meet?" Nicholas asked after a rather awkward silence, gesturing between us.

"At Marcy's shop," Zoey replied.

Rather charitably, she didn't tell them how I'd watched her for months without taking action.

_Actually, maybe I should thank Nicholas Grey. Without his chauvinistic opinions I might've never started buying Zoey's mochas for her- or even revealed myself- and then where would we be?_

I momentarily mused over the irony of the situation before Grey's question brought me back to earth.

"What does Rivers think of you?" he demanded in an accusatory tone.

_Excuse me, when did I get on the witness stand?_

"He doesn't mind me, I suppose," I said calmly. "I'm a good customer, at least."

_And an excellent tipper to boot._

"So good that he sold you the richest thing in his shop," Nicholas muttered- a comment obviously meant to rattle me. His eyes were cold as he watched me for a reaction.

I stiffened and immediately felt the heat rise in my veins because of the implied jibe at Zoey. My inner beast bristled at the thought of her being "sold" to anyone- let alone the idea that I had entered into an agreement with Billy to get Zoey's attention for our mutual benefit.

It was exactly what Grey had intended for me to do with him. He was a despicable man who could only assign the lowest motives to others because he was too terrible to see anything else.

_Don't give in. He's not worth it._

The words became a mantra I sternly repeated to myself until the shimmering film that had begun at the edge of my vision- a sure sign I was about to lose my head- faded away to nothing.

"That sponge cake  _is_  rather rich, yes," I noted mildly.

Zoey had to turn a laugh into a cough at her brother-in-law's befuddlement. He looked like someone had just thrown a nasty spider on the table, because I refused to rise to his bait.

"You alright, sweetheart?" I asked in an innocent tone, patting Zoey's back gently as her attempt at subterfuge became a full-on coughing fit.

"I'm fine," she replied breathlessly, though her shoulders were now shaking with suppressed mirth.

Needless to say, we didn't stay for dessert.

* * *

Zoey invited me into her apartment when I drove her home, and of course I accepted.

I thought I'd done a decent job at subtly making my opinions known during that incredibly uncomfortable dinner. Nicholas Grey knew not to trifle with me now- I had no interest in  _anyone's_ schemes. I was clearly on Zoey's side, and no one else's.

But one notion preyed on my thoughts, gnawing at me until I couldn't bear to keep silent anymore. I waited until we were sitting on Zoey's comfortable sofa with tea in hand and surrounded by cats before speaking.

"You don't believe what Nicholas tried to imply, do you?" I blurted out.

"What? That you and Billy are in cahoots to get my money? Just like Nick wanted to become friends with you to do the same?" Zoey retorted, with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah. That," I muttered. The words left a bad taste in my mouth.

She shook her head. "Not for a second. Billy wouldn't do that to me, and I believe you wouldn't either. Why would you think I would be suspicious?"

"I was thinking about how bad it looked- the day I actually started to try to speak to you was also the day I found out that you're very well-off. Even though finding that out almost made me want to turn around and give up," I admitted. Zoey looked confused, so I elaborated. "You're beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted,  _and_  rich on top of it all, Zoey. You deserve much more than a science geek who turns into a monster."

Zoey was quiet for a long moment, obviously contemplating that.

And then suddenly she straddled herself across my lap, with her face only inches away from mine. Her fingers traced along the back of my neck, and her heavenly scent filled my nose and wreaked havoc with my mental facilities.

_Hands. Where do I put my hands?_

" _I_  get to decide what I deserve. Not you," Zoey whispered. "Ok?"

"Ok," I agreed reflexively.

She could've asked me to sell my kidneys on the black market at that moment and I would have agreed. Her close proximity turned off my higher brain function, I guess.

Then Zoey kissed me, and I forgot about everything but how good it felt to be this close to her. Her hands started to wander, and so did mine- threading through her hair, tracing down her back, brushing along her silky-smooth legs.

I was so grateful, and _honored_ , that she was letting me touch her like that.

_I love you so much. If you let me I'll worship the ground you walk on._

It was the same as before, when we were outside her apartment. I got swept away in the sensations and completely lost myself in Zoey. My self-control rapidly drained away as she opened her mouth to mine and our kisses deepened even more.

Zoey bit my lip, and I let out a low growl of appreciation.

_Oh no._

She giggled at the sound, but I immediately pulled away and opened my eyes. My vision was shimmering again, my breathing too fast. I was much, much too close to the edge.

_What if I hurt her when I change? No, I can't-_

Zoey's eyes opened too, all hazy and beautiful. I could hear her heart pounding in her chest- the sound matched my own. She was breathing heavily, and her cheeks were slightly flushed.

_She wants me, too. She really wants me._

Somehow that made it even more difficult not to dive back in for another kiss.

"Your eyes look like sunsets," Zoey murmured. She stroked my cheek tenderly. "They're beautiful."

It was worse than I thought.

I was hanging onto the edge of a cliff with my fingertips.


	26. Bravery and Subterfuge

**Bravery and Subterfuge**

My hands, at least, were still human-looking when I put them on Zoey's waist and moved her off my lap as quickly and gently as possible. Then I practically ran for the door to go stand outside on the terrace and collect myself. Zoey didn't follow, probably suspecting that I needed a moment.

_Or maybe she thinks I just rejected her. Perfect, just perfect._

The thought that Zoey might believe that I didn't want her made me anxious and remorseful. It certainly made calming down even more difficult, though being away from her scent and proximity should've made it easier.

It had been Charles who taught me meditation, starting six years ago when my second mutation first happened. He helped me learn to manage the sudden rages and uncontrollable urges that came along with the bestial appearance, to lock them all away and bury them deep. I called on that technique now to rein myself back in, slowly breathing in the muggy air until all of my-  _excitement_ \- leeched away.

Within minutes I felt calm enough to face Zoey, but I still didn't go inside. I was too mortified and utterly ashamed of myself for almost losing it like that. I was afraid to face her, to see the hurt in her eyes and know that I was failing her as a boyfriend.

_Would it leave a bad impression if I just jumped off her balcony and went home?_

I didn't seriously consider the notion, but the thought  _did_  cross my mind.

_When it comes to love, I'm a complete coward._

It was with an incredible amount of reluctance that I quietly stepped back inside.

Zoey was curled up on the couch with her arms wrapped around her legs, hunched over with head to knees. She looked so small and alone, the sight broke my heart a little. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt her, and it seemed like that was exactly what I'd just done.

I wordlessly came over and sank to the floor in front of her, tentatively reaching out to touch her tiny little foot.

_Maybe if I grovel she'll have pity on me._

Zoey jumped and let out a squeak of surprise.

_I_ definitely  _need to start whistling when I approach people._

"Sorry," I told her apologetically.

I'd almost turned into a monster while making out with her and now I was sneaking up on her like some sort of weirdo. This wasn't my night.

"I need to put a bell on you," Zoey muttered, uncurling her legs.

I grinned weakly in reply, unsure of what to say after our near-debacle. Should I apologize for walking away from her like that? For almost turning into a monster?

She held out her hands and I took them readily, though the image of blue, fur-covered clawed fingers holding hers swam before my eyes. I shuddered at the thought.

"I'm sorry," Zoey whispered. I glanced up to see her face was genuinely contrite. "I wasn't thinking about how kissing you like that would push you."

_She_  was apologizing to  _me_  about what just happened? Like it was _her_ fault I couldn't be a normal boyfriend?

Zoey blaming herself for my failings was deeply upsetting.

"It's ok," I replied, shaking my head. "I'm the one that should be apologizing. If it weren't for-"

She silenced me with a gentle finger placed on my lips, and then cradled my face in her hands. "It's part of who you are, Hank. I don't mind."

I nodded, though I still felt depressed. I just wanted to be normal, a man who could make out with his girlfriend without issue.

But I couldn't, and I never would.

It was like a mockery of a fairy tale. Instead of my princess' kiss turning me human, it did the exact opposite and threatened to turn me into a beast. The irony was inescapable. And very disheartening, to say the least.

"You're brooding," Zoey noted, frowning. "Stop it. We just need to learn our limits, ok?"

Her words soothed me.

_Limits, yes. You're an angel for suggesting it._

I was so thankful she was willing to make this work, to be patient with me while we figured out what was possible for us without me losing control.

Because, truth be told, I was too afraid to show Zoey the other side of me. I'd rather have her  _know_  about the Beast, so I wasn't hiding the terrible truth from her, but not let her see it for fear of frightening her away. It was a compromise I'd made with myself, so I wasn't lying to her about my other side.

I knew I couldn't get away with it forever, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to put off Zoey seeing the Beast for as long as possible.

"Ok," I agreed.

She leaned down and kissed me sweetly, signifying all was well.

I tried to enjoy the moment and ignore the sense of foreboding growing in the pit of my stomach over my subterfuge and what could happen between Zoey and I because of my feral half.

I knew it was better to hide the Beast from her, lest she become afraid of me. She claimed to be fine with it, sure. But I didn't want to take that risk.

Losing her just didn't bear thinking of.

* * *

Almost two weeks later, Zoey walked into the cafe in a state of excitement so strong she was visibly shaking. She came over to stand next to me, but didn't take her seat. I would've been concerned were it not for the huge smile on her lovely face.

"Zoey?"

"I'm a doctor!" she blurted out.

My heart leaped in my chest and I let out a huge sigh of relief. I'd been getting worried as the days passed without word from the board that they were going to reject Zoey's thesis and deny her her doctorate.

But now the wait was over. She was officially Dr. Zoey Dubois.

"That's wonderful. Congratulations, Dr. Dubois," I said sincerely.

I stood and swept her into my arms in an uncharacteristic bout of exuberance. As always, Zoey melted into the embrace.

"Billy!" she called out, still tucked up against my chest. "They approved my thesis!"

The older man behind the counter let out a joyful whoop. "Marcy!" he yelled into the back room. "Zoey's officially a doctor now!"

Billy and Marceline both came out to hug their goddaughter, while the patrons of their shop looked on with fond smiles.

I was content to stand outside of the focus of attention, the perpetual wallflower that I was. Besides, this felt like a "family" moment, and I didn't want to intrude.

_Just me, being awkward. Nothing new here._

"Your father would've been so proud of you," Billy told Zoey, holding her at arms' length.

She nodded, her eyes suddenly over-bright. "I wish he was here," she whispered.

_Oh, Zoey. Please don't cry._

It was obvious that her elation was twinged with grief over the absence of her father on this day. Would happy occasions always be like that for Zoey- a hint of pain among the joy? Or would the wound fade over time?

My heart ached for her- it was a loss none of us could never heal, no matter how much we wanted to. I knew it was irrational, but I wished Billy had left Mr. Dubois out of the conversation.

"I know,  _ma petite_.  _We're_  proud of you too, you know," Marceline added, stroking Zoey's hair.

"Thank you both for being so supportive," Zoey said sincerely. "It means very much to me."

_"Je t'en prie, ma petite,"_  Marceline replied. She kissed Zoey once on each cheek.

At that moment a customer came in, so Billy and Marceline retreated back behind the counter. That left Zoey and I standing by ourselves next to our customary table.

She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes before looking at me with a small, sad smile.

I opened my mouth to speak, to ask her if she wanted to talk about it, but Zoey gave a quick shake of her head.

"Today is a happy day," she said simply, taking a seat at our table. "Not a day to be sad."

And with that, all traces of grief disappeared from her expression, like a slate wiped clean. The cracks in her armor quickly mended, the soldier's mask back in place.

Some people think bravery is about fighting in battles and grandiose acts of valor. And maybe it is, somewhat. But there's also bravery to be found in a person whose heart is hurting, but who keeps smiling and living their life to the fullest extent anyway.

And my love was certainly no coward.


	27. The Danger Room

**The Danger Room**

The Fourth of July happened to fall on a Thursday that year. Since it was a national holiday Zoey came to spend the entire day at the Institute, to my (and Olivia's) delight. She arrived bright and early to eat breakfast with me, once more placing herself where she could see her niece.

"Hey, Zoey," Sean said as we dug into our pancakes. "Want to try out the Danger Room today?"

_Oh no._

I stiffened immediately- the thought of watching the woman I loved getting shot at by angry robots didn't exactly appeal to me. Just the idea sent my blood pressure sky-high and the Beast stirring uncomfortably in the corner of my mind where I kept him locked away from my consciousness. Letting a female put herself in danger went against instinct for a feral mutant such as myself.

_Call me an over-protective chauvinist, I guess._

"The 'Danger Room?'" Zoey asked curiously. "Isn't that the training program you designed and built, Hank?"

"Yes," I reluctantly replied. I knew what was coming next.

"Can I try it?"

_No. You see, my love, even though I believe you are a fully capable person in your own right, my feral half and I are in agreement that watching you be in peril would cause us to keel over and die._

"Um-" I stammered. "I'd rather-"

Sean and Alex were watching my struggle with no small amount of amusement, like I was some sort of engrossing football game. I scowled at Sean for bringing up the Danger Room in the first place while I tried to think of some sort of valid excuse.

"Please?" Zoey asked, batting her eyelashes at me and giving me a winsome smile, all sparkling eyes and flashing white teeth. "I love seeing your inventions."

My brain immediately shifted out of gear.

_Damnation. That's just not fair._

"Ok," I mumbled.

"Yay!" Zoey cheered.

She clapped her hands and kissed me on the cheek while I stared morosely at my breakfast, cursing myself for being a complete pushover.

_It's called "willpower," McCoy. Find some._

Meanwhile, Sean and Alex were fighting to stay upright, their bodies wracked with unrestrained guffaws of laughter.

_I hate you both right now._

"Dude," Alex gasped, trying to recover. "You are so whipped."

I opened my mouth to retort, but Zoey leaned in at that moment and nuzzled her head against my arm. Her eyes were dancing with laughter as she looked up at me, and suddenly I didn't care what Alex thought. I loved Zoey too much to heed his opinion.  _She's_  the one that truly mattered.

"Whipped and  _happy_ ," I agreed, kissing her on the forehead.

* * *

Within an hour Sean, Alex, and I were waiting in the control room of the Danger Room dressed in our flight suits and waiting for Zoey to emerge from the locker room. I'd managed to scrounge up a spare uniform for her, since her pale blue dress and wedge sandals weren't exactly training-ready.

"What's taking so long?" Alex asked impatiently, with a heavy sigh. He fiddled with a zipper on his sleeve.

I shrugged unhelpfully as I tinkered with the parameters of the exercise we were about to do. The Danger Room wouldn't let the participants die, but injury couldn't be ruled out. And Zoey getting hurt was unacceptable. I debated on whether I should put the simulation on the easiest setting, but I knew Sean and Alex would complain about it and Zoey would be angry with me if she found out I was patronizing her.

"She's a woman," Sean supplied sagely. "Enough sa- there she is!"

Sure enough, Zoey now stood in the doorway to the control room.

Her hair was up in a messy bun, revealing her graceful neck, and the flight suit- well, let's just say I hadn't designed it with a woman's curves in mind. She was petite enough that the uniform merely hugged the contours of her lower body ( _very_  nicely, I might add), but the chest area was a different story.

_My stars and garters. Don't stare. Don't stare. Look at her eyes instead-_

_Oh no, I looked. Sorry, Zoey._

Zoey had her forearms held up in front of her chest with her fists tucked under her chin to preserve her modesty. Her cheeks flushed a bright cherry red when she caught me looking, and of course my face warmed in reply.

_Sorry sorry sorry._

It wasn't obscene or anything, but she was certainly exposing more cleavage than I'd ever seen her show. Clearly, she was uncomfortable with this whole situation.

"You still want to do this?" I asked gently, trying to keep the hope that she was going to change her mind out of my voice.

_Say no! Say no!_

Zoey didn't hesitate. She nodded and took a deep breath. Her arms came down to her sides as she squared her shoulders, and she balled up her fists like she was ready for a fight.

She looked so fierce I could actually ignore the uninterrupted view of Zoey's cleavage her change in stance afforded me. It reminded me of the expression on her face right before she faced off against her sister and brother-in-law over Olivia coming to the Institute a month ago. Brave, resolute, determined...

_I never knew tenacity could be so sexy. Ok, now I'm just being weird._

I tried to shake my head free of such thoughts while I finished setting up the simulation, but I don't think I succeeded. Then I led Zoey into the Danger Room with the other X-Men.

"We're going to be fighting three waves of robots. They get more numerous and dangerous with each wave," I explained, taking off my glasses and tucking them into a pocket as we waited for the machine to warm up. "The simulation can't kill you, but it  _can_  hurt you. So- please stay close to me?"

I half-expected Zoey to make some sort of snappy retort, but she didn't. Instead she nodded solemnly and scooted closer to me.

_She's nervous but trying not to show it. And my reluctant attitude isn't helping._

I immediately felt guilty for not being more supportive. Zoey might have something to prove to herself, and who was I to stand in her way?

At that moment the lights went out in the training room.

I could hear Zoey's sharp intake of breath from the loss of her sight- she wouldn't be able to see anything, I knew. Though she wasn't as visible as she would be were I in my Beast form, my night vision was still good enough that she wasn't completely concealed from my eyes.

Zoey was frozen in the darkness, straining with her ears to compensate for her lack of vision in this completely unfamiliar situation.

I could sense her anxiety radiating off of her in waves. Wordlessly, I reached out and touched her hand gently with mine, giving a light squeeze of reassurance. She clutched my fingers tightly in response.

_Ow. You're cutting off my circulation. But I guess I don't need those fingers anyway._

The darkness lasted perhaps only thirty seconds.

And then, piece by piece, the scene took shape. Within moments we were standing on a street lined with nice little suburban homes, the details complete down to the white picket fences and flowerbeds lining the walkways. Cars sat parked in driveways, and a warm noonday sun shone down on us. All was peaceful and quiet.

For now.

Zoey let out a small gasp. Her death-grip on my hand loosened, and she drifted towards one of the cars. Her free hand was already stretching out to touch it as I followed closely.

I knew what she would feel- metal and glass, slightly warmed by the sun above, just like a real car. I'd worked very hard on making the simulations as life-like as possible.

She let out a joyful giggle as she ran her hand across the top of an old Mercury Breezeway.

Her obvious delight gave me an idea for a surprise for her sometime. I tucked the thought away for further examination later.

"You made this?" Zoey asked, wonder evident in her voice.

"Yeah," I replied. I felt an inexplicable surge of pride at her apparent awe.

"Oh, Hank," she laughed.

She turned around and threw her arms around my neck, pressing her whole body against mine. Certain parts of her anatomy that were usually concealed were suddenly quite prominent, leaving me in quite a situation.

_Don't look down, look in her eyes, don't look down._

Then she gave me a very thorough kiss that left me feeling a little dazed.

"You are so amazing," Zoey whispered, while my ears grew warm.

We had an audience, after all, and I was getting a little  _flustered_  from the kissing and the compliments and the glorious view of her cleavage that I was trying desperately not to stare at.

As if on cue, Alex chose that moment to interrupt us. For once I was grateful for the interference.

He snorted and elbowed Sean. "So that's what nerd love looks like, huh? Getting all hot and bothered over science?"

Sean couldn't hold back a chuckle as he gave a playful shrug.

Zoey glared at them both, still in my arms. "Can it, Hula-Hoop Boy," she snapped.

_"Hula-Hoop Boy?" My stars and garters, I love you._

Now it was Alex's turn to get laughed at. He opened his mouth to make some witty comeback-

And that's when the first wave of robots hit us.


	28. Myocardial Infarction

**Myocardial Infarction**

Instinct took over as a spray of bullets chased along the side of the Mercury, coming from a nine foot tall robot that had appeared from down the street with five of its cohorts.

_I need to keep her safe._

I grabbed Zoey, shielding her body with mine, and jumped over the car in one leap to use it as cover.

I could hear Alex let out a joyful whoop and Sean's loud, high-pitched scream designed to get him airborne. Both of them were old hands at this.

Training in the Danger Room happened to be Alex's favorite form of entertainment. I think it was because it was a safe place for him to let loose and use his powers without fear of hurting anyone. Both he and Sean were fine.

No, it was Zoey I was worried about, since she was so new to everything.

_And if so much as a hair on her head gets hurt I'll go into a guilt spiral for agreeing to let her in here._

"You ok?" I asked as we huddled behind the bullet-ridden car.

She nodded, though her eyes were so wide I thought they may pop out of her head. I had the feeling she hadn't expected everything to be so abrupt.

"Now what?" Zoey asked, biting her lip.

"Go destroy some robots," I replied encouragingly. "You can do it. Can you set them on fire from here?"

She frowned thoughtfully.

Together we both peeked our heads out from behind the hood of the car to observe the scene. Four robots were down already, with two to go. Sean and Alex looked like they were having a blast- literally and figuratively.

"I can't," Zoey muttered after a moment's concentration. "I guess there has to be some kind of flammable material for me to catch on to. Let me try something else."

She ducked behind the car again, but I remained in a kneeling position and watched the other X-Men take out the second-to-last robot.

Alex hit the machine with a debilitating shot to the torso, and Sean knocked it over with a sonic scream through the wall of a house. The structure crumpled like paper mache.

_So much for minimizing collateral damage._

Alex caught sight of me as the last robot sized him up. "Hey, Beast! Your girlfriend chicken out?"

At that moment I saw motion out of my peripheral vision. And then a sizable fireball flew over me and hit the last robot right in the head, melting it on the spot and causing the thing to completely collapse to the ground.

Alex let out a gleeful shout of laughter. "Nice one!"

I turned, and Zoey was standing behind me with a shocked expression on her face, her mouth in such a perfect "O" shape it was comical. She was looking at the melted wreck that used to be the robot's head like she couldn't believe she was the one who destroyed it. I had the suspicion that Zoey had never done something like that before.

She finally looked down and gave me a huge, well-pleased smile. It was the expression of someone who had just discovered the depths of their own potential, and despite my many reservations about Zoey's very presence in the training room I couldn't help feeling proud of her.

"You amaze me all the time," I murmured honestly.

I adored the blush that came to her cheeks at my words.

* * *

Zoey came out from behind the car for the next wave of robots. She still looked anxious, but there was excitement there too. Like she wanted to test herself but had a good feeling she would do well.

"There's going to be twelve robots this time," I told her as we joined the other X-Men. "And they're going to have more weapons, ok?"

She nodded.

That was the only respite we got, because at that moment more robots dropped from the sky, raining bullets and blasts of fire down on us.

I reached to pull Zoey out of the way, but she'd already disappeared, dissociating herself into heat and turning amorphous and invisible in the atmosphere.

_Wouldn't it be nice if she just stayed that way so I wouldn't have to worry about her in here?_

I used my enhanced speed to dodge out of the line of fire and scampered up the back of one of the robots, using myself as bait to get one of the other machines to shoot at the one I was on. At the last possible moment I jumped off, landing cat-like on my feet. My target fell from friendly fire.

I turned to find that Zoey had re-materialized on top of a house. She cupped her hands together- much like when she made those little fire birds for Olivia- and within two seconds a ball of flames appeared.

She pitched the fireball at a robot, but I didn't see if she hit it or not. Because at that moment, another robot sent a jet of fire straight at her, setting the roof alight and engulfing her in flames.

For a brief, horrible moment my heart stopped and shredded itself into a thousand, bleeding pieces.

_No!_

But then the flames cleared, and Zoey stood there completely unscathed. In fact, she was  _more_  than unhurt- she had somehow gathered the robot's fire into a sphere in her hands, which she immediately sent back at the offending individual. It turned into a melted, twisted pile of metal.

_Oh thank all that is holy._

Logically, I knew a pyrokinetic like Zoey was likely to be fire-proof. But love and logic don't exactly coexist. I was practically incoherent with joy that she was unharmed.

_Never again- I can't do this again. My blood pressure- aneurysm- myocardial infarction._ Never _again._

* * *

We dispatched the rest of the robots from the second wave quickly and efficiently.

It was tempting to run over and ask Zoey to step out of the simulation because watching her was giving me heart failure, but I held my tongue. I was trying desperately to be a good, supportive boyfriend. And besides, she was doing quite well for her first time in the Danger Room. My solicitousness would come across as overbearing and pointless at this juncture.

But I couldn't keep my thoughts from running away from me as I finished off the last robot by hopping onto its back and ripping out the hydraulic system powering its movements. I pictured Zoey asking to become part of the X-Men, to regularly put herself in danger, and felt a flash of panic.

_One thing at a time, McCoy,_  I told myself sternly.

So I swallowed down my worries and found something resembling a smile for Zoey when all of us regrouped in the street.

"You're doing great," I told her, trying to arrange my face in an encouraging expression.

"Really?" Zoey asked incredulously. "Because you look like you're about to die."

_Oh, you think?_

"I'm fine," I fibbed- poorly, I might add.

She knew I wasn't being truthful. In fact, it looked like she was trying very hard not to smile at my atrocious attempt at lying. We were so often on the same wavelength, I should've known that Zoey would be able to guess at my thoughts. Even if I tried to hide them.

"Hank," she cajoled. "Just one more wave, and I won't come back in here, ok?"

"You won't?" I asked blankly.

_Don't toy with me, Dr. Dubois._

Zoey shook her head, eyes wide. "No! This is terrifying. I just wanted to try it once to see how I well I'd do. How do you do this all the time?" she babbled. "Do you really think I'm doing ok?"

Relief. Instantaneous, overwhelming relief.

"Yes, you are," I replied truthfully. "Are you- are you sure you won't want to do this again?"

She shook her head. "No thanks."

"Oh, thank God," I breathed, feeling like I'd just gotten a reprieve from an appointment with a defibrillator.

Zoey's eyebrows raised.

"I mean-"

"Just keep digging yourself a hole, Beast," Sean laughed, leaning against a car with his arms crossed.

_Thanks. It's not like I need help burying myself from the peanut gallery, here._

I would've been almost grateful for the eighteen robots that chose to attack at that moment and the distraction from my big mouth that they provided, but this was the most difficult wave. Not only did these opponents shoot bullets and flames, they were also armed with heat-seeking explosives.

And that meant Zoey's mutation would instantly make her the enemy's favorite target.


	29. Family

**Family**

Zoey quickly sent a fireball at one of the robots, completely melting its face off. By the time she finished the follow-through from her throw another projectile was already forming in her hands.

But before she could release that one, three other robots targeted her higher temperature and sent heat-seeking explosives aimed straight at her.

"Zoey, hide! They seek out heat!"

She promptly vanished into thin air, dissociating into the atmosphere. Now the missiles couldn't hit her, since she was no longer a solid entity.

Unfortunately, they were also now locked onto Zoey's heat signature, making it impossible for her to reassemble herself and fight back in any way.

I mentally berated myself as I kept track of her position, using the missiles as a guide. They followed her around like she was a mother duck even though she was merely a nebulous, invisible ball of heat.

Zoey was completely helpless, though at least she was safer in this form. From the moment she even tried to use her powers for this wave of robots she was a target.

_What was I thinking, keeping this in the simulation?_

And then I remembered that I had planned on changing it, but I'd been distracted by Zoey's arrival and her ill-fitting uniform before I'd gotten a chance. This was completely my hormone-ridden self's fault.

_Damnation._

Alex, Sean, and I worked quickly to destroy the last wave of robots, warping metal, tearing off limbs, or just out-right disintegrating our opponents as fast as we could. That way we'd be free to assist Zoey in getting the missiles off her tail.

I sensed, more than saw, the last robot take aim at me. It fired a heat-seeking missile just as Alex sheered its torso in half with a well-aimed blast to its joints.

_Oh boy. This is going to hurt._

Though I knew it was useless, I attempted to dodge out of the way as the explosive made a bee-line for me, having already locked on. It followed my trajectory-

And then curved in the opposite direction as a very hot shock wave blew past, knocking me to the ground and searing the air in my lungs.

The missile meant for me joined the pack of explosives chasing Zoey, locking onto her heat signature and ignoring mine, which of course was much weaker. She'd gathered quite a collection since the fight started.

I realized at that moment that she'd purposely done so. Zoey had been using herself as bait to keep the missiles away from the rest of us, knowing the explosives would follow her higher temperature instead so we could destroy our enemies with relative ease.

_Well done, my love. But how do we save you now?_

Zoey was ahead of me in this regard.

The missiles, which were now flying at tree height several hundred feet down the street from the rest of us, suddenly rocketed down towards a house. It barely registered for me that the front window of the home was cracked open-

And then the structure was blown to smithereens.

My heart was in my throat as I ran towards the spot where the house used to be, ignoring the debris falling from the sky. All of the rockets had detonated, unable to clear the concise space between window and house the way Zoey could in her current state. It was a very clever plan to get rid of them all.

But now there was no sign of her. Just smoldering wreckage and ashes swirling around, almost like it was snowing in July. But no Zoey.

"Zoey-?" I called out, fighting the urge to panic.

_Please be ok, please be ok. I'll never forgive myself-_

A little flash of light appeared, and then there she was, only a few feet away. Her face was pale and she looked very tired, but all that mattered to me was that she was unharmed.

"Are you ok?" I asked quickly, pulling her into my arms as Sean and Alex caught up to us.

The simulation was starting to fall away, revealing the blank white tiles of the Danger Room once more. After the sunny afternoon-turned-robotic-rampage, the change to such stark surroundings was a little jarring.

"I'm fine," Zoey promised, snuggling against me. "Though I could definitely use a nap now. I've never used my powers that much before."

"I could imagine not," I agreed.

"You did great," Sean assured her. "Especially since it was your first time and all. Nice trick keeping all of those missiles busy and away from the rest of us. What'd you think, Havok?"

"You did ok," Alex sullenly agreed. Paying Zoey a compliment seemed to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

"Thanks, Hula-Hoop Boy," she muttered.

"No problem,  _Sparky_ ," he retorted.

Zoey threw a tiny little fireball at him, the size of a bang-snap, to tell Alex just what she thought of  _that_  nickname.

He let out an undignified yelp as he dodged out of the way.

_I wish I'd gotten that sound on tape._

* * *

Within half an hour I was sitting in a sun room with Zoey on my left and Olivia on my right while I read  _James and the Giant Peach_ aloud. I'd only read perhaps ten pages before Zoey laid down with her head in my lap and started to snore quietly.

_Oh, I'm sorry. Am I boring you?_

I actually wasn't offended- as Zoey said earlier, she had never used her powers so much before. I could understand why she was exhausted.

Plus, her snoring was adorable. It was rather difficult not to laugh just for the joy of hearing her and watching her sleep.

Olivia looked at her aunt, and then up at me. She reached out and touched my hand, surprising me a little. I still wasn't used to people reaching out to me like that, except for Zoey, of course.

_Is Auntie ok?_ Olivia's voice whispered in my head. _  
_

If I wasn't so used to Charles' voice speaking to me in my mind I would've jumped.

_She's fine, Livie. Just tired. Auntie Zoey had... a very busy morning._

_Will she be awake for fireworks? Auntie Zoey loves fireworks,_ Olivia said. Her mental voice sounded quite anxious, like she was truly worried that Zoey would miss out.

Suddenly my mind was filled with images of a younger Zoey lighting sparklers and ground flowers with Olivia, a joyous smile on her face. Her laugh sang through my ears as vivid and clear as if she were actually doing it in the present, rather than a memory Olivia was placing in my mind.

I grinned. "That's a very nice memory, Livie," I whispered. "We'll make sure to wake her up before dark, ok?" _  
_

Olivia nodded eagerly and settled back against the sofa once more, obviously at peace now that she knew her aunt would get to see the fireworks.

"Can you read some more now, Mr. Hank? Where's the peach? You  _said_  there would be a big peach," she pressed with child-like determination.

"We're getting there," I promised, trying not to laugh at her distress.

And so we sat, with Olivia listening intently while I read to her quietly over the sound of her aunt's soft snores and stroked Zoey's silky-soft curls with my free hand.

The Centipede had just fallen into the ocean when Zoey's snoring finally cut off. I lifted the book to see that she was blinking awake.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," I told her. "Have a good nap?"

Zoey nodded, her eyes all hazy and beautiful as she gave me a sleepy smile that took my breath away. It made me want to kiss her very badly.

_Time and place,_  I told myself sternly, feeling very mindful of the little girl sitting next to me.

"Maybe now we can get some reading done, don't you think, Livie?" I asked leadingly.

I gave her a deliberate wink, making Olivia giggle in delight. She immediately caught on that we were about to have some fun with Zoey. Honestly, she had to be my favorite little kid on the entire planet.

"You snore loud, Auntie."

Zoey pouted and sat up. "Do not."

"Yes, you do," I argued. I couldn't resist adding, "and I think you drooled, too. My pants leg is wet."

Now she looked horrified.

I'd learned over the past month that Zoey was  _very_  particular about her hair. She hated rain and humidity for the havoc they wreaked on her curls, living in fear that she might be walking around looking like she just stuck a penny in a light socket. Zoey's hair was her biggest vanity, and it was no secret to any of us.

So, knowing that, Olivia's next comment was aimed right for the jugular.

"Your hair is all mushed on the side, Auntie."

(Just so we're clear- it  _wasn't._ )

Zoey blanched and immediately ran out of the room, while Olivia and I collapsed into laughter.

We were still guffawing when Zoey came back in a fit of righteous indignation and started to tickle Olivia for fibbing. Zoey didn't stop until I pulled her into my lap and held her close.

"Both of you-" she grouched, pouting prettily with crossed arms.

"Sorry, Auntie," Olivia said, hugging the older girl's knees.

Zoey just shook her head, fighting back a grin. I leaned in and kissed her temple, and that's when she truly smiled. Her anger was as brief and mild as a summer rain shower.

_There we go. Apologies accepted._

Having received forgiveness, Olivia settled back down next to me so we could continue reading  _James and the Giant Peach,_ with Zoey still on my lap.

In a strange way we were a little family in that moment. And I loved every second of it.


	30. Fireworks and Fireflies

**Fireworks and Fireflies**

The school emptied out onto the grounds once darkness began to fall. Younger mutants congregated in groups led by a responsible (or semi-responsible, in the case of Alex's group) adult to ensure no one was injured when the fireworks started to go off.

As the school doctor, I always got stuck running the first aid center just in case someone got hurt. I use the term "first aid center" loosely, because it was really just a blanket on the ground where I sat and waited with a bunch of bandages and burn cream for someone to need my help.

Having a bunch of children- especially  _mutant_  children- living together at this school meant there was always one injury or another to treat, but thankfully that wasn't too time-consuming. I still had plenty of time for my research and experiments, the work I truly enjoyed. Charles gave me free reign in the laboratory, allowing my mind to roam freely from genetics to biophysics to organic chemistry and back again. I was lucky to have such a generous mentor.

"Hey, you."

Zoey plopped down next to me on the blanket, interrupting my train of thought. She snuggled against my arm and gave me a heart-stopping smile.

"H-hi," I replied.

We'd been dating for a month and it still felt like a surprise sometimes when Zoey sat next to me or gave me a casual gesture of affection. It was as if for a moment I would forget my good fortune and wonder why on earth this angel paying me any attention at all. And then I would remember, and thank my lucky stars that she was mine.

"Where's Livie?" I asked curiously.

Zoey sighed and cast down her eyes. Her smile became a little forced and brittle.

"She said she wanted to go play with her friends now," she replied glumly.

_Ouch. That's harsh._

I put my arm around Zoey's shoulders, trying to offer quiet support.

I couldn't think of anything to say in tenuous situations like this, when my first instinct was to approach the problem logically instead of with emotion. Pointing out that Zoey wanted Olivia to make friends, that her niece was growing up, didn't seem like a good idea when Zoey was feeling rejected.

_People skills are still not my strong suit._

"I'm sorry," I offered.

"It's ok," she assured me, leaning up to kiss my jaw. "It's what I wanted for her, to have friends and be a normal seven-year-old little girl. And besides, now I can spend time with my boyfriend."

She smiled prettily, a hint of a blush on her cheeks, and I couldn't help grinning back. I leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss.

For a few minutes neither of us said anything as we watched the adults hand out morning glories to overly-excited children. Arguments over who got what color broke out here and there, but they were quickly put to rest.

Soon enough the terrace and basketball court were illuminated by swirling sparks of pink, teal, and yellow. In the distance I could hear soft explosions, and even see the occasional burst of color from neighboring areas convening their own Independence Day celebrations.

A warm, balmy dusk had settled heavily on Westchester County and was now rapidly slipping into full darkness. The humidity brought out fireflies. The way the little gleams of light floated in the air reminded me of the tiny fireball Zoey threw at Alex earlier in the Danger Room.

I chuckled aloud at the memory.

"What's so funny?" Zoey asked curiously.

"The fireflies," I replied, gesturing to a nearby luminescent insect. "They reminded me of that little fireball you threw at Alex earlier for calling you 'Sparky.'"

She snorted derisively. "He deserved that."

Her unapologetic reply made me laugh outright. Zoey had no sympathy whatsoever as far as Alex was concerned. I had a feeling it was because he teased me so much, and she wanted to pay him a little retribution for all those years of calling me "Bozo."

As if I needed another reason to love her.

"You really don't want me to go back in the Danger Room, do you?" Zoey asked, breaking into my affectionate musings.

_Uh oh. I was rather hoping you forgot about that. Why,_ why _did I bring that up?_

My ears started to get hot, and my chuckles died away immediately. I had the vague notion that I was in trouble, so I removed my arm from around her shoulders.

"No," I reluctantly admitted. "I don't."

Zoey somehow managed to look offended and amused by my honesty at the same time. Her face was always so expressive- it was one of the reasons I enjoyed watching her at the cafe for so long.

"Try not to sugarcoat it, Dr. McCoy," she muttered disconsolately. "Why not?"

_I don't want to go there. You're going to think I'm a sexist pig like your brother-in-law._

"I thought you didn't want to?" I asked, floundering.

"I don't," Zoey agreed. "But I want to know why you seemed so _relieved_ that I don't. You said I did well-"

"You did," I said. "How'd you learn to throw so well, by the way?"

_No, I'm not trying to change the subject. Me? Of course not._

"I was named the best left-handed pitcher in the state of New York in Little League for three years straight. And don't change the subject," she scolded. "Is it because I'm a girl?"

I winced.

"Yes," I replied in a small voice.

Her expression immediately became stormy and wounded, all trace of amusement gone.

_Talk fast, McCoy._

"It's not because I don't think you're capable, or anything of that sort. I  _know_  you are, Zoey," I explained quickly. "I... Remember what I told you about feral mutants? The animal instincts?"

She nodded slightly.

"The stronger ones override my sense of reason. And my strongest instinct is to protect you," I told her _._ "Letting you put yourself in danger, even in a controlled environment, completely contradicts that. Seeing you get engulfed in flames..."

I trailed off, remembering the sensation of my heart ripping itself from my chest at the very idea that Zoey was hurt.

"Logically, I knew you would be ok, but I nearly had a heart attack anyway. So yes, I'm thankful you don't want to go back into the Danger Room or be an X-Man. That way you'll be safe."

Zoey let out a deep exhale and then bit her lip as she eyed me steadily, appraising my sincerity. I waited, hoping she wouldn't be angry. It's not like this protective streak was something I could help- it was hardwired into my DNA.

"I guess I can't be angry about that, then," she announced finally, to my deep relief. She punctuated her forgiveness with a kiss.

We were quiet for a few minutes, just observing the controlled chaos in front of us. The big fireworks hadn't started yet. Instead everyone was working through the smoke bombs, ground flowers, and snakes that came in the numerous packs of fireworks Sean and Alex had purchased. I spied a few kids throwing bang-snaps at each other and sighed. Just children being children.

_Better get the burn cream ready._

"Did you know fireflies are actually beetles?" Zoey asked suddenly.

I glanced down and saw she'd caught a firefly in her hands somehow. I could see the blinking light through the cracks between her fingers as she peered in and looked at it.

"Yes. And their bioluminescence is due to an enzyme called luciferase and it's used for mating. The most common species around here is  _Photinus pyralis_ ," I replied.

_Did I just sound like a condescending know-it-all? I think I did. Damn. She made one comment and I answered with a biology lecture._

Zoey giggled, dispelling my fears. She always seemed to enjoy it when I told her facts that I found interesting, rather than feeling that I was patronizing her. I think it was because she loved learning new things just as much as I did.

"I love it when you talk nerdy to me," Zoey said, releasing the firefly.

My cheeks flamed in response, as always when she paid me a compliment. I couldn't even think of a reply.

_"Love." She said "love."_

She snuggled up against me and we settled down again, watching the fireworks that started only a few minutes later.

Well, Zoey watched them. I mostly just watched her, sitting with my arm around her again. Her eyes shown brightly with the reflection of the star bursts above us, a huge, joyful smile on her face. She looked absolutely radiant, this beautiful girl that I loved.

"I love you," I murmured quietly.

But she didn't hear me over the fireworks.

And I wasn't brave enough to say it louder.


	31. A Little Girl with a Mission

**A Little Girl with a Mission**

"Mr. Hank, I need your help," Olivia announced solemnly.

I blinked in surprise.

It was a week later, a Thursday, and I'd arrived in time for dinner at the Institute after spending a few hours with Zoey at the cafe. I was just on my way to my seat when Olivia accosted me at the entrance of the dining room with a very sober expression on her face.

"What's wrong, Livie?" I asked, feeling a tremor of worry as I knelt down to the ground to speak to her. She was such an energetic, happy child, it was unnerving to see her so serious.

What sort of issue would Olivia come to me with, rather than her teacher or Charles?

"Are you ok?"

"Auntie Zoey's birthday is on Saturday," Olivia explained earnestly. "I've been saving my pocket money to buy her a present, but I need a ride to the store. Could you help me?"

My emotions were in direct juxtaposition with each other at that moment. Relief that there was nothing wrong with Olivia. Horror that there was only a day until my girlfriend's birthday and I'd had no idea. Why hadn't she said anything? Why hadn't Billy or Marceline warned me?

I'd had an inkling that her birthday was coming up soon, sometime this month. In one of her letters to me, so long ago, she'd mentioned that her father had passed away last July. And Billy had said that Edward Dubois died a mere week after Zoey's eighteenth birthday.

And now it was here, and I was unprepared. But at least I still had time to do something for her, because of Olivia.

_Thank goodness for little girls with big hearts._

"Of course," I agreed, thinking quickly.

Since it was summer, school got let out at noon. We would have plenty of time to go get presents if we went immediately after class.

"We'll go after school tomorrow and get Auntie Zoey a present. How does that sound?"

Olivia nodded eagerly. "Ok. Can we make her a cake, too?"

_Great. Baking, such a manly activity._

"Sure, Livie. Whatever you want."

My mind was far away as I made my way to my seat for dinner, poring over possible gift ideas.

We'd been dating for a month and a half now. I needed to get her something that had the proper amount of affection without being too extravagant and over-the-top, or else I'd seem creepy.

_Says the ex-borderline stalker. On second thought, maybe I shouldn't be worried?_

"Hey, Beast," Sean greeted me as I took my seat. "What's up?"

"I'm just trying to think of a birthday gift for Zoey," I mumbled, still distracted.

"When's her birthday?"

"Saturday."

"Damn. Did you forget or something?" Sean asked.

"No," I replied, frowning. "No one told me."

"That's messed up. Women," Alex interjected, scoffing. "They expect us to be mind-readers."

Moira let out a pointed cough at that moment, letting Alex know she didn't particularly approve of that comment.

"Sorry, Moira. But you're actually  _married to a mind-reader_ ," Alex pointed out. "So Charles just needs to twiddle his fingers and  _bam!_  He knows you want a new Mercedes for Christmas." _  
_

_Touche, Alex. A valid point._

Moira tried to look annoyed, but couldn't hold the expression. She shared an amused glance with Charles. The kind of look that conveyed volumes, even if the spouses weren't telepaths.

"Just buy her some jewelry, Hank," Charles told me.

"Hey," Moira griped. "What makes you think she'd want jewelry?"

"Because, my dear," he replied, picking up her left hand- the hand where a two carat diamond wedding ring sparkled with conspicuous brightness. Charles brought her hand up to his lips for a kiss. "Women have a weakness for shiny things."

Moira rolled her eyes. "Maybe we can help you out, Hank," she said, changing the subject. "What sort of things does Zoey like doing?"

"Um... Reading, photography, spending time with her niece, beating me in epic Scrabble matches, watching  _Star Trek,_ painting her nails-"

_Kissing me, cooking terrible-tasting food, drinking a lot of mochas and eating too much candy. She even likes Twinkies. My stars and garters, I love her._

Sean hooted with laughter. "She beats  _you_  at Scrabble?"

I nodded, slightly ashamed. "Only because we're not allowed to use scientific names," I added hastily, lest anyone think I was losing my edge. "And I always win at chess."

_And that's why she doesn't like playing me at that game. Sore loser._

"Could you get her a new book?" Moira asked, back on point.

I shrugged. "I get her a new book every week."

"New camera?"

"She just bought herself one earlier this year. That's part of the problem- whenever Zoey wants something, she just buys it for herself," I explained, feeling disconsolate.

_One of the downsides to having a rich girlfriend._

"Must be nice to be that loaded," Alex muttered.

As one, all of us- Moira included- turned to stare at Charles.

He chuckled and smiled genially, completely unfazed by our pointed looks.

"Just buy her some jewelry," he repeated.

My only reply was to groan and thump my head on the table.

* * *

Later I called Zoey to tell her I wouldn't be able to make it to see  _Star Trek_  with her the next night. It was a weekly ritual for her to watch the show every Friday- even the summer re-runs, because she adored the program.

I confess to being rather ambivalent about the show, though I was slowly warming to it. The story line was fine, but I found Captain Kirk's antics and speech patterns to be quite exasperating. And while I admired his intellect, every time Mr. Spock was on screen my hand would reflexively go up to rub my own eyebrows.

_Do mine look like that? Ugh._

Zoey, of course, found this hilarious and would giggle madly whenever she caught me doing that. But then she would kiss me, and I'd forget all about my uncomfortable resemblance to Mr. Spock.

"I was just calling to say I can't make it tomorrow night," I told her, after exchanging pleasantries.

_"Aw. Why not?"_  she asked. I could hear her pouting over the phone.

"I'm..."

_Baking a cake for you with your niece. Pray that I survive, my love._

"I've got some work to finish up," I explained lamely.

_"Oh. Ok,"_ Zoey replied.

I knew she could tell I was lying, but she didn't press me further.

Maybe she suspected my absence was related to her birthday. It was tempting to ask her why she hadn't mentioned it, but Olivia had made it clear that all of this was a  _surprise,_  and I was a little afraid of attracting her wrath.

So I said nothing.

* * *

The next afternoon I found myself following a very determined seven-year-old as she stalked through the mall in Yonkers on a mission. We'd already been there for over an hour and there was no sign of Olivia slowing down.

"Livie, what exactly are we looking for?" I asked tentatively after she walked in and out of yet  _another_  store.

"The perfect present for Auntie," she replied, like it was obvious.

"Yes, but what does that look like?"

Olivia stamped her foot in an unexpected flash of petulance. "I don't know, Mr. Hank," she whined. "This is so hard!"

_So is following you around aimlessly._

I knelt down in front of her. "Hey, it's ok. We'll figure it out, alright? No matter what, your Auntie is going to love whatever you get her because it's from you."

She nodded disconsolately.

I stood and offered her my hand. As she took it I spied a jewelry store. "Come on, Livie. I've got an idea."

The salesman raised his eyebrows when he saw us come in. Olivia and I must've made quite an odd pair- after all, we clearly weren't related, and I didn't exactly fit the mold for a babysitter.

"Can I help you?" he asked with stiff politeness.

"Yes, hi. We're trying to find a birthday present," I explained.

"For my auntie," Olivia added.

"Ok," the salesman said. He glanced again at me, the question obvious in his expression.

"I'm auntie's boyfriend. But she's the boss," I told him, pointing down at Olivia.

It took a long time- my stars and garters, a  _long_  time. Olivia was determined to pick the perfect present, standing on a stool so she could see inside the display cases and make a definitive choice. Eventually she settled on a pretty silver locket after I suggested that we put a picture of herself inside to give to Zoey.

"How much is this, sir?" Olivia asked politely.

The salesman looked amused. "$97."

Her expression immediately soured- she looked heartbroken. "I only have $12."

Twelve dollars meant that Olivia hadn't spent a dime of her pocket money since she started at Xavier's, trying to save up money for Zoey's present. The little kids were given an allowance of $2 a week as a reward for the little chores they did, like keeping their rooms tidy. She'd tried so hard, I had to help her out.

"Don't worry Livie. I'll pay for this," I assured her. "And you can buy a card. Then we can say it's from both of us."

She deliberated for a moment, and then surprised me by throwing her arms around my neck, almost knocking over the stool she'd been standing on.

"Thank you, Mr. Hank!" Olivia squealed. "I hope you become my uncle someday!"

I almost keeled over, right then and there, but I still returned the embrace.

"You're welcome, Livie," I replied.

_So do I._


	32. Happy Birthday, Zoey

**Happy Birthday, Zoey**

The next few hours were a bit of a whirlwind. After I recovered myself and paid for the necklace, I found a drugstore and spent another half an hour sitting on the floor in the card aisle patiently waiting for Olivia to read through  _every single card_  until she found the one she wanted to give to Zoey. Then we stopped by the grocery store to pick up cake mix and chocolate frosting, which Olivia was suspiciously excited about.

"Can I lick the bowl?" she asked, practically bouncing up and down as we stood in the checkout line. "Please?"

_Not unless I want your dorm monitor to kill me. You're too hyper as it is._

"We'll see," I reluctantly replied.

We made it back to the Institute in time for dinner, and then headed to the kitchen when the meal was over. Together we baked and frosted the cake by bed time- though it seemed like Olivia sneaked half the frosting into her mouth while I wasn't looking, and that was  _after_  I let her lick the leftover batter from the bowl. She'd pleaded and pouted until I gave in, grumbling about my lack of willpower once more.

Thankfully she burned off her sugar high while we focused on getting a picture of her for Zoey's locket, talking a mile a minute and exploring while I developed the tiny photograph in the school's dark room.

"Why don't we put a picture of you in the necklace too, Mr. Hank?" Olivia asked while I worked.

I hadn't suggested it because I felt giving Zoey a necklace with a picture of me inside was very presumptuous. Though the very thought filled me with a cold, suffocating dread, our relationship could possibly not work out.

But Zoey's love for Olivia was easy and uncomplicated, almost like a mother's love for a child. Unconditional, a permanent bond that couldn't be broken. Olivia's picture would always belong in this locket.

Plus, there was also the fact that I avoided cameras like the bubonic plague.

"She can put my picture in there if she wants to, ok?" I told Olivia, trying to be diplomatic.

After the way Olivia expressed the hope that I would be her uncle someday, I definitely didn't want to speak of breaking up with her aunt. I honestly didn't even want to think about it.

"Ok," Olivia agreed, examining a bottle of p-aminophenol.

"Please don't touch that. If it gets in your mouth it will make you sick."

_Going from one thing to another. I hope that frosting wears off soon._

* * *

"I think Auntie will want to go to the zoo today," Olivia announced the next morning while we were in the car on our way to Zoey's apartment.

I couldn't hide my amusement. "It sounds like  _you_ want to go to the zoo."

She pouted, crossing her arms. "No, I think  _she_  will," Olivia retorted in her chirpy bird voice. "We were supposed to go last year, but Grandpa was sick and Auntie wanted to spend her birthday with him."

_Because she knew it was the last birthday she'd have with her father..._

For the first time since Olivia approached me for help I felt a tremor of uncertainty.

Maybe Zoey had purposely not told me that July 13th was her birthday because she didn't want to celebrate it this year. I could see Billy and Marceline agreeing to keep me in the dark in that regard, out of respect for her feelings.

But Olivia? No one would think to warn Olivia- she was too young. They probably thought she wouldn't remember Zoey's birthday in the first place.

At this point we were parked in front of Zoey's apartment building, but I didn't move. I was staring blankly out the windshield, completely lost in thought.

_Maybe this isn't such a good idea. Maybe she just wants to be alone today._

Olivia poked me impatiently in the arm. "Come on, Mr. Hank."

I didn't know how to tell her this might be a mistake. I  _couldn't._ Olivia had done everything with the best intentions, and I couldn't break her heart by ruining her surprise. If Zoey was upset, I'd completely take the fall for this.

"Sorry," I told Olivia. "Let's go."

I helped the little girl out of the car, then headed upstairs. She carried the present and card, and I carried the cake. Olivia knocked on Zoey's door. I held my breath, full of trepidation.

_Here goes._

Zoey opened the door, saw us standing there, and froze- except for her mouth, which dropped open in surprise. Her eyes were red-rimmed and a little puffy, like she'd been crying.

_Uh oh. Worse than I thought._

"Happy birthday, Auntie!" Olivia crowed.

"Happy birthday," I murmured apologetically.

Zoey recovered quickly, finding a smile for us both. "Oh, you remembered! Thank you!" she said brightly, leaning down to hug Olivia. "Come in."

I stepped inside, going to the kitchen to set down the cake while Olivia ran into the living room looking for Zoey's cats to say hello.

Zoey followed me into the kitchen and stood there twisting her hands, giving off an air of contrition and awkwardness. Like she'd been caught in some wrong-doing.

I felt about the same at the moment, like I'd rudely intruded on a day she wanted some privacy. Olivia was my only defense.

"I'm sorry," we both blurted out at the same time- quietly, so Olivia wouldn't hear.

We gave each other wan smiles for being on the same wavelength again.

"Can I go first?" Zoey whispered.

I nodded.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you today was my birthday," she said softly, stepping closer. "I even asked Billy and Marcy not to tell you because I- I-"

"Your dad?" I asked gently.

She nodded, looking very vulnerable. "Last year he was dying and I wanted to look at my childhood photo albums today. I don't want to remember how he was when he was sick, not on my birthday. I felt... I felt like it would be too hard to pretend not to be sad today."

"You don't have to pretend with me," I told her gently. "But I understand. I really do."

Zoey looked down at her hands, trying to compose herself. "Thanks."

"I'm sorry we're intruding," I said, taking my turn to apologize. "It didn't click for me why you didn't say anything until we were already here. Livie asked me for help Thursday night, and she worked so hard, I couldn't tell her-"

Olivia appeared at the entrance of the kitchen, cutting off my explanation.

"Can we have cake now?"

Zoey looked at the clock and gave me a mischievous grin. "It's 9:45 in the morning. I'd say it's cake time," she announced.

And I knew then that all was forgiven.

* * *

Olivia insisted that we sing "Happy Birthday," much to Zoey's chagrin.

She hid her face while we sang- Olivia in a high, childish soprano, and me in a tuneless tenor. In the light of the candles, Zoey's flushed forehead was almost as red as her hair. I can't say I blamed her for trying to hide from our terrible serenade.

Her eyes met mine right before she blew out the candles, a fresh blush coming to her cheeks.

_Is your wish about me? If only I could ask, so I could try to make it come true._

We settled down to eat at the dining room table. It was chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, an Olivia-approved concoction.

"This is delicious," Zoey remarked. "Who made it?"

"Mr. Hank baked the cake, and I did the frosting," Olivia replied proudly.

_"Did?" More like_ ate _._

"Hank bakes?"

I pursed my lips, feeling embarrassed. "When the occasion calls."

Zoey giggled. "No wonder you couldn't come over last night. It sounds like you had quite a busy day."

"Uh huh. We went to the mall and then we went to the drugstore and then the grocery store and we baked your cake and finished your present," Olivia explained proudly. "Can you open it now?"

"Sure," Zoey agreed.

Olivia hopped down from her chair to go grab the present from the living room. While she was gone I caught Zoey gazing at me with a rather shy smile gracing her lips.

"What?" I asked, suddenly hit by a wave of self-consciousness.

_Do I have frosting on my face?_

Her mysterious grin got even wider as she blushed. "Nothing."

I was going to press her on it, but Olivia came back at that moment. She presented the gift with a little flourish.

"You guys didn't have to get me anything," Zoey murmured, cradling the box in her hands.

"We wanted to," I assured her.

"It's from both of us. Open it!" Olivia urged, doing an anxious little dance.

Zoey laughed and shook her head as she finally opened the gift. She gasped when she saw the locket.

"Oh, it's beautiful!"

"Look inside," Olivia told her. As Zoey began to open the clasp, the little girl's impatience got the better of her. "It's me!"

_My stars and garters. No more cake for you, Livie._

Tears started in Zoey's eyes. Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.

"It's  _perfect,_ " she whispered.

_Oh thank goodness._

"Hank, could you help me put it on?"

"Of course."

After I helped her put the locket on, Zoey drew both Olivia and myself into a tight embrace. A three-way hug of sorts.

"Thank you both so much," she murmured, kissing each of us. "I'm glad you came over and surprised me. You're my two favorite people in the entire world, you know. I love you both."

_Both? She loves us both!_

"Grandpa wouldn't want you to be sad on your birthday, Auntie," Olivia said sincerely.

I immediately had the suspicion she'd heard her aunt's thoughts and felt a pang that we couldn't hide the burden of Zoey's grief from her niece. In many ways the little girl was growing up much too fast because of her telepathy.

"He'd want you to let your favorite people take you to the zoo," she concluded, completely serious.

Zoey burst into laughter, the uncontrollable kind where tears come to your eyes and your stomach hurts. I couldn't help joining in, cracking up over Olivia's audacity.

"Ok, Livie. Let's go to the zoo," Zoey agreed.

Sometimes being with the people you love is the best cure for what ails you. You don't have to pretend to be happy for them. They make you feel that way, all on their own.


	33. Winter Wonderland

**Winter Wonderland**

A few weeks passed, weeks in which I spent quite a bit of time trying to find the courage to tell Zoey that I loved her. She'd said she loved both Olivia and I on her birthday, but she hadn't mentioned it since.

I was afraid to bring it up and make things awkward between us if Zoey hadn't meant it. What if it had just been a slip of the tongue? Something simply said in the heat of the moment? I'll admit that I was fragile enough to be devastated if she told me her feelings for me weren't that deep.

But today I was trying not to think about all of that. I'd been working on the surprise idea I'd had on the Fourth of July for Zoey, and now it was finally finished.

I knocked on her door early one Sunday afternoon, full of nervous excitement. I was going to show her how much I cared the best way I knew how: with _science_. I hoped she liked it.

Zoey answered and greeted me with a lovely smile. "Hello," she said, standing on tiptoe for the kiss I gladly gave her. "Come on in."

"Actually, I was hoping you'd come with me to the Institute," I told her.

"Ok," she agreed, eyeing me curiously. "What're we doing?"

I couldn't stop myself from grinning, feeling absolutely buoyant. "It's a surprise."

"A surprise?"

I nodded, enjoying the way her eyes flared with interest.

_Ah ha. I have your attention._

"Come on," I cajoled, holding out my hand. "And please don't wear sandals."

"Um, ok," Zoey agreed, looking puzzled. "Just give me one second."

Within five minutes I'd helped her into the passenger seat of the Bentley and we were on our way.

"So, do I get a hint about this surprise?" she asked hopefully.

"I can't risk giving you a hint," I replied, only half-joking. "With your dazzling intellect you'd be sure to guess, and that would ruin it."

Zoey giggled, her cheeks turning pink. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Hank."

My ears warmed. She always made me seem so much more adroit and charming than I really was. It made me want to be the person Zoey saw me as, rather than the one I felt myself to be.

"Phew," she commented after a moment, fanning herself. "It's warm out today."

_All the better for my surprise, my love._

"It is," I agreed, biting back a laugh. "Want to roll the window down?"

"No!" Zoey replied sharply. "You know what it'll do to my hair."

* * *

"Ok, I need you to close your eyes," I told Zoey once I'd helped her from the car at the Institute.

She smiled and immediately placed her hands over her eyes, to my bemusement.

"You're being surprisingly cavalier about this," I commented. I gently took one hand from her eyes and started leading her inside.

"I think the more I cooperate, the faster I'll get to my surprise," Zoey reasoned. "The suspense is already killing me."

I laughed. "Fair enough."

We got some odd looks as we passed through the halls, but thankfully no one stopped us. I led her forward by the hand until we reached the stairs leading to the basement. I would need to carry Zoey so she didn't know we were traveling down a few floors.

"I need to pick you up, ok? Keep your eyes closed still," I urged.

"You're going to pick me-?" she began, but her question cut off with a giggle as I swept her off her feet- literally- and carried her bridal-style.

Zoey turned her head to hide her eyes in my shirt, still laughing. "Am I hurting your back?" she teased.

I rolled my eyes, though she couldn't see me. "On the contrary, you're much too light. Have you not been eating enough?" I retorted playfully.

My mood was uncharacteristically frenetic and almost sublimely joyful from the excitement of this surprise. I was hopelessly inept at romantic gestures, but I was giving this one my best attempt.

"Maybe not. I'm starting to realize I can't cook," Zoey remarked sheepishly.

I snorted. "Yes, I know," I replied, before thinking it through.

_Uh oh. Open mouth, insert hand-foot._

Her eyes popped open, her expression a mixture of indignation, reproach, and absolute horror.

"Hank! Why didn't you say anything?" she admonished. "I thought you liked my cooking."

_Great. Now I'm going to need this surprise to keep myself out of the doghouse._

"Close your eyes, please," I begged.

Zoey squeezed her eyelids shut, but she was still pouting.

"I'm sorry," I told her earnestly. "I just didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Well, they're hurt now," she muttered.

_Damn._

"I'm sorry. I'll teach you how," I wildly promised, trying to make it up to her.

"You know how to cook? How'd you learn that?" she asked, momentarily distracted.

"Self-defense," I replied sardonically. "Before Moira came back and whipped this place into shape it was just Charles, Alex, Sean and I. Alex burns water, Sean can barely work the microwave, and Charles can't reach anything in his wheelchair. So it was learn to cook or starve to death."

Zoey was quiet for a long moment, processing that.

We reached the Danger Room's control center, and I set her down so I could open the door. I already had the simulation all set up- the display read "Zoey" in glowing red letters. I just needed to push the "apply" button and lead her inside.

"Can you teach me how to bake?" she asked suddenly. Thankfully she was still covering her eyes. "I've always wanted to learn to make cookies."

_Sure. Let's just slap an apron on me and call me "Betty Crocker."_

"We'll see," I reluctantly conceded. "I really do apologize for insulting you."

"It's fine," Zoey replied glumly. "I should've known better when you said you liked that pot roast last week."

_Are you referring to the hockey puck you tried to feed me?_

"It wasn't so bad," I fibbed.

I had no idea it was humanly possible to glare with your eyes closed. But Zoey managed, somehow.

"Right this way, please," I announced, a desperate attempt to change the subject.

I led her into the training room and held my breath as the scene took shape.

We were standing on a snow-covered, curved stone bridge spanning a frozen river that cut across a small clearing blanketed with fresh powder. On one side was a peaceful-looking pinewood forest. On the other side of the bridge was a cluster of quaint little Tudor-style cottages all lit up from within. Smoke trailed from their snowy chimneys and up into the pearly gray-blue sky, which gave forth the occasional snowflake.

_Perfect. A winter wonderland in August._

Zoey shivered. "It's cold," she muttered. I could see her breath in the air.

"There's a reason for that," I told her. "You can look now."

Her eyes popped open and she let out a huge gasp.

"What-?" she questioned, giggling, as she turned around to look in all directions. "The Danger Room?"

I nodded, enjoying her delighted reaction.

_Note to self: Zoey likes surprises._

"There's no robots coming, right?"

"No," I replied, grinning. "No robots. Just snow."

I offered her my jacket, which I'd brought in earlier, and helped her put it on. It practically swallowed her, she was so tiny.

"There's gloves in the pockets."

"Thank you."

Zoey had a huge smile on her face as she stepped off the bridge and into the little clearing. She scooped up a handful of snow and laughed, practically giddy from feeling the chill through her gloves.

"This is amazing," Zoey said, palming the snow. "Why'd you do this?"

I shrugged. "You just seemed to really like the simulation that one day, so I thought I'd make one for you," I explained. "Give you a little break from the heat. Do you like it?"

"Are you kidding? I  _love_  this, Hank!" she replied excitedly. "Thank you. You're such a sweetheart."

"I'm glad you like it," I said, flushing up.

Zoey cast her eyes down shyly, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. But then she met my eyes again and gave me a mischievous smile that made my heart leap into my throat.

"Catch!" she laughed.

And then she threw the snowball she'd formed at me. It hit me right in the chest.

_Did that really just happen?_

"Hey!" I griped, once I recovered from my surprise.

Zoey giggled, turned, and ran for the trees.

_You want me to chase you? That's a race you can't win._

I followed, easily reaching her within five strides. My hand reached out to slip around her waist-

Zoey promptly vanished into the atmosphere, leaving me empty-handed but for the momentary flash of heat across the back of my fingers.

"That's cheating!" I called, turning around wildly to find her again.

I got rewarded with another snowball, this time to the back of the head. I whirled around just in time to see Zoey disappear, her laugh hanging in the air.

I scooped up a handful of snow, ignoring the prickly cold feeling my nerves gave in protest and held it in readiness.

A little patch of warmth brushed past me. I tracked it, and turned at just the right moment to catch Zoey as she re-materialized within arm's reach. My guess was she planned to grab a handful of snow and shove it down my shirt.

_Too bold. I've got you in my clutches now._

I grabbed her by the waist and plopped my snowball right on her head, laughing triumphantly.

"Noooo!" Zoey shrieked, writhing and struggling to get away.

Her escape attempts made us collapse in a giggling heap on the snow-covered ground. I twisted at the last second to break her fall, so she landed on me instead.

She straddled my chest, her laughter dying away as she gazed down at me. I stopped chuckling under her scrutiny.

Zoey's eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed, her hair falling around our faces like an iridescent curtain. The smile on her face took my breath away.

It was like being in the presence of an angel. My heart swelled to bursting with love for her.

_Just say it. Tell her-_

"I love you," Zoey whispered.

My breathing stopped.

Hearing her say those words, it felt like a supernova went off in my chest- a universe expanding inside of me, a warm glow spreading through my limbs. This beautiful woman, who I never believed could be mine, loved me. I wanted to pinch myself.

_Get it together, McCoy. Say it back!_

"I love you too, Zoey."

Her smile was dazzling as she leaned down and kissed me. I responded eagerly, pouring all of my joy and gratitude, all of my love into that kiss-

And tried to ignore the soft, deadly voice, the poisonous whisper in the back of my head that said Zoey only loved the mask I wore. Not the Beast I truly was.


	34. The Cookie Monster

**The Cookie Monster**

Six months passed- the happiest six months of my life. The time flew by, but I didn't mind. Holidays, once miserable affairs to be endured, were now mildly amusing events spent with the people I cared about.

Some were more enjoyable than others.

On Halloween Zoey and Olivia cornered me and dressed me up as a zombie (over my vehement protests) so we could take Olivia trick-or-treating.

I didn't want to dress up at all, but I folded under their double-team assault. Both aunt and niece pleaded and coaxed until I cracked, grumbling about their unfair use of pouty faces and my lack of backbone.  _Again_.

"It'll be fun, Hank," Zoey wheedled, putting smelly stage make up on my face while I sulked. "So please stop frowning, you're putting wrinkles in the make up."

_If you can pout I can too,_  I childishly retorted in my thoughts.

"What are you supposed to be?" I asked her, still in a cantankerous mood.

Zoey was wearing an above-the-knee black dress with glow-in-the dark trim and wings. A little set of antenna was perched on her head. Obviously an insect of some kind, but I couldn't tell which.

"I'm  _Photinus pyralis_ ," she replied proudly. "I like the name 'Pyralis.' It means 'of fire' in Greek, you know. I want that to be my code name."

I felt a tremor of worry- enough to momentarily make me forget my peevishness- at the thought of Zoey adopting a mutant alias. Did she really need one, if she wasn't going to be a combatant? Or was this "just because?"

_Better not bring it up._

"It suits you," I mumbled.

Olivia skipped in at that moment, wearing her witch costume. Her brow puckered in confusion.

"What are you supposed to be, Auntie?"

"I'm a firefly, Livie," Zoey replied.

"No you're not. There's no glowing thing on your butt," Olivia retorted.

I burst into laughter at the look on Zoey's face. And with that, all of my perturbation melted away.

* * *

Zoey and I spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with Marceline and Billy, having decided to avoid the Grey family as much as possible. I had a standing invitation for dinner at the Rivers' house on Sundays, though.

I fell more and more deeply in love with Zoey as time passed. I loved the way she left little slips of paper with sweet notes on them in books she borrowed from me and returned, how she always stocked her pantry with Twinkies just for me. I found it amusing that she enjoyed watching football and throwing popcorn at the television when the Jets made a bad play.

"Isn't that a pain to clean up?" I asked once, while I was sitting next to her on the couch.

I wasn't even bothering with pretending to watch the football contest. Watching Zoey have a stroke over a lost fumble was far more entertaining.

"Sid will eat it," she replied, thoroughly engrossed in the game.

"All of it?"

"Of course. Have you seen him? He's a hippopotamus," Zoey told me, patting my knee absently while not taking her eyes off the television. "Now hush, darling. The game's on."

I loved her plucky attitude and the way she never let anything dampen her mood for long, even when the board members for her company made snide remarks. For a pessimist like me, she was a ray of sunshine. Talking to her was uplifting, enlightening, challenging. She listened to my theories and understood them like no one else did. I was a lucky man.

If someone had told me on New Year's Eve 1968 that I would be spending the next year's event with a beautiful woman at my side, I would've asked if I could have a sample of the drugs they were on.

For scientific inquiry, of course.

But it wasn't a hallucination. I welcomed 1969 with a kiss from the woman I loved, which was a vast improvement over the previous year. Or _any_ year, really.

Zoey made me happy. And I did everything in my power to reciprocate.

And yet... and yet. My sub-conscious was haunted with thoughts of how Zoey would react if she ever saw the real me.

* * *

It was a chilly February day, just past a year since I first set eyes on Zoey Dubois in Marceline's Cafe.

I was looking forward to another long winter evening curled up in front of the fire with Zoey. We were going to play chess in a bit, and I was already planning my victory.

For now she was baking chocolate chip cookies- still one of the only decent things she could make after months of tutelage. Maybe because that was the only food Zoey was interested in cooking. She would live on mochas and sweets if she thought she could get away with it.

_It's alright, my darling. We'll live on cookies, Twinkies and our love for each other._

I was sitting on the couch pretending to watch television, but really I was taking every opportunity to sneak in and grab some cookies while she wasn't looking. At first I got away with it (courtesy of my mutation), but she finally noticed after my third unseen illicit foray into the kitchen.

"Where are all my cookies going?"

_Uh oh._

I leaned forward, pretending to be interested in  _Hawaii Five-O_.

The back of my head metaphorically began to smoke as Zoey arrived at the conclusion that I was the cookie thief.

"Hank!" she yelled, stomping over to stand next to the sofa.

"Yes, sweetheart?" I asked innocently. I kept my face composed as I looked at her.

Zoey glared at me accusingly, so I mentally prepared myself to do some apologizing for my sticky fingers. But then her expression softened and she leaned down and kissed me fiercely.

_Oh! I'll take this over getting yelled at._

Of course I responded whole-heartedly- one kiss from Zoey was enough to send rivulets of pure desire coursing through my veins, my heart pounding in my chest.

My hand reached up to touch her face, luxuriating in the satiny softness of her skin. A nibble on my lip led to my tongue sneaking into her mouth-

Zoey immediately pulled away. "Stop stealing cookies, Hank!" she scolded, poking me in the chest.

"What?" I asked blankly, trying to keep up the facade.

"Oh, stop it. I can taste them on your breath."

_Caught. I've been caught._

"You were kissing me for investigative purposes? I'm wounded," I teased, trying to maintain a serious expression. "They're delicious, Zoey, so I can't help it. My compliments to your baking skills."

_Yes, flattery. Her biggest weakness._

Zoey rolled her eyes, but I knew my cajoling worked because she was fighting back a smile. My thievery was already forgiven. I pressed my advantage and pulled her down into my lap.

She didn't protest. If anything, she made herself comfortable.

"Maybe I had a good teacher," she noted archly.

I grinned and pulled Zoey in for another kiss, this one slow and intense. One of my hands came up to thread through her hair to hold her to me. She responded and made a small noise in the back of her throat that caused heat to pool deep within me.

The things this girl made me feel.

Everything about Zoey appealed- her intelligent mind, her pure heart, and the beautiful, innocent passion she so willingly offered to me. Everything about her called to the things deep inside of myself. Even the things that frightened me with their intensity.

Zoey adjusted herself so she was straddling my lap instead, giving me better access. My fingers traced along her skin, savoring every inch as I pulled her still closer. Our kisses were languid but passionate, leisurely but feverish.

Behind my eyelids all I saw was white, like the color of an incandescent flame. Heated desire was spooling through my bloodstream, rippling over my skin like a wave at the beach.

I pulled away from her mouth to leave a trail of soft kisses up her neck. She dug her fingers into my hair and made another little sound that threatened to drive me crazy.

"I love you," I murmured against her skin.

I sensed, rather than saw, her answering smile.

"I love you," Zoey replied.

My lips sought hers again as she opened her smoldering emerald eyes, all hazy with passion-

And then her face twisted in horror, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream as she pulled away from me.

"Zoey-?"

She jumped off the couch, tripping over the coffee table in her struggle to get away. Reflexively, I reached out and grabbed her wrist to stop her fall.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, tugging to free herself. I could smell her fear.

The hand holding her wrist was blue and covered with fur, with claw-tipped fingers.

"Please, let me go," Zoey begged, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Wounded, I released her. She fell in an ungraceful heap and rolled until she was standing, clutching at her hands. Zoey backed away from me like I was a stalking predator.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered. Her eyes darted around, like she was measuring her chances for the exit of her apartment.

"Zoey, it's me," I pleaded, on the verge of tears myself.

_She's terrified. But she said she loved me, she told me she wouldn't be afraid-_

I stood slowly, as if I were approaching a wounded animal. "It's Hank. I would never hurt you," I told her desperately. "I love you."

I stepped closer, and she flinched like I tried to hit her.

"Stay away from me!"

"Zoey, please, it's me," I begged, coming nearer.

She backed away, trapping herself in a corner. Her sobs were like daggers thrown into my heart. Stupidly, I reached out for the woman I loved to try to comfort her, to assure her that it was still me, her Hank, and I could never hurt her-

"Please, Zoey, it's ok-"

Zoey shrank away, slapping at my hands.

"Stop! Get away from me! You're a monster!"

_Monster._

I knew it. I was a wretched creature that no one could love. I always had been, and I always would be.

"Monster! Get away, you monster!"

Her screams got louder until they obliterated everything else.

* * *

I woke up snarling, with my heart in my throat and tears starting in my eyes. I bolted upright, gasping for air, adrenaline still pumping through my veins.

It took me a moment to realize where I was- in my bed, at the Institute. It was dark outside still, with not even a hint of the oncoming dawn.

_A dream. It was just a dream._

No, not just a dream. It was a nightmare of my deepest fear come true.


	35. An Unexpected Visitor

**An Unexpected Visitor**

A terrible choking sound worked itself out of my throat, somewhere between a sob and a growl. I'd changed into Beast in my sleep, probably from being so overstimulated.

I vaguely noticed that I'd ripped my sheets apart while I thrashed around, and torn deep gouges into my mattress. It looked like an animal attack.

Which, honestly, it _was_. Me, an animal.

_A monster._

Zoey's voice echoed in my ears, the memory of her screams and cries causing the fur on my arms to stand on end. She'd been so terrified of me, so revolted. I saw the love in her eyes instantly replaced by horror from seeing my real face.

I put my head in blue, clawed hands, trying to get a handle on myself.

_It was a nightmare. Just a bad dream. It didn't happen._

Last night I went over to Zoey's apartment with her after spending time together at the cafe. She baked cookies, and I stole some. She caught me, but I flattered her into forgiving me. Just like my dream. We started to kiss-

And then I stopped us. I pulled away, like I always did.

I'd learned my limits since the night I nearly lost it. That's not to say it wasn't difficult to hold on, but I never let go of my self-control. Being so close to Zoey felt incredible, so it made the struggle I put myself through worth it.

But after a certain point I always forced myself to step back from her, away from temptation. And every time, it killed me to see the pain Zoey's eyes when I pulled away. I hated hurting her, but stopping was much better than the alternative.

My nightmare was an actualization of my worst fear. That I would lose control of myself, that Zoey would see the real me and be afraid. And then I would lose the best thing that ever happened to me. I couldn't bear it.

I stumbled into the bathroom to splash water on my face, trying to wash the sickening feeling of dread from my skin.

My reflection stared at me, a terror-inspiring countenance. Feral yellow eyes, dangerous-looking fangs, sharp claws, garish blue skin and fur. I definitely didn't fit the bill for anyone's Prince Charming. Certainly not a beautiful woman like Zoey's.

_What can I do? What_ will _I do? What if I lose her?_

* * *

"Are you alright, Hank?" Zoey asked. "You seem quiet- I mean, quieter than usual."

It was later that day. We were in the Danger Room again, laying in a sunny meadow blanketed with sweet grass and blue primroses- Zoey's favorite flower. When winter arrived in Westchester County I'd decided to give Zoey springtime by writing another simulation for her.

"And you say you're bad at romance," she'd said when I showed it to her for the first time.

I was sprawled out on a blanket with Zoey's head on my stomach while we both looked up at the sky. She was reading  _The Three Musketeers_  to me in French as we snacked on peanut butter sandwiches, Cokes, and Twinkies- because no picnic is complete without Twinkies.

I relished the sound of her voice, the smooth cadence of her speech. French was a lovely language but when Zoey spoke it it was even more so.

_Though perhaps I'm slightly biased._

I focused on listening to her, rather than thinking about my nightmare. I broke out in a cold sweat every time my thoughts strayed to the look on her face when she saw my Beast form in my dream.

"Hank?" Zoey repeated, snapping me out of my ruminations.

She raised her head off my stomach.

"I'm fine," I told her, brushing my fingers through her curls. "Just enjoying listening to you."

She flushed prettily.

I loved her easy blushes, her shy smiles. It made me feel like I made Zoey as weak-in-the-knees as she made me. It was quite a heady feeling.

This woman meant the world to me. I couldn't bear the thought of losing her.

"I love you," I said quietly.

"I love you too, Hank," she replied, with a gorgeous smile.

_Yes, but would you still? I'd rather not find out._

"Ready for  _Star Trek_?" Zoey asked brightly.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure."

* * *

"I'll agree that I do enjoy the show, but I contend that my fondness for  _Star Trek_  mostly stems from the fact that I mentally associate it with you," I told Zoey as we walked down to the garage, arm-in-arm.

She giggled. "All I heard in that statement is that I was right and you like it now," she teased, squeezing my arm gently.

I let out an exasperated sigh that was completely feigned. "If it makes you happy to think that," I replied.

And then we both laughed. Zoey turned her face up for a kiss, which I leaned down to give her-

"Well look at you two little lovebirds," a female voice said, from up ahead of us.

The voice was familiar, though its biting tone was not. I remembered that voice being full of sincerity and telling me I was beautiful and perfect. Urging me to be "mutant, and proud." Cracked and strained with intensity as she told me society should aspire to be more like mutants, and not the other way around.

I froze in place as Raven Darkholme stepped into view, in all her naked blue glory.

Seeing her... Once upon a time I would've been elated, ecstatic to be near her again. I wanted Raven to come home to her brother, to me. I wanted to beg on my hands and knees for a do-over on our last meaningful conversation and hope she would forgive me for being such an idiot.

I didn't feel that way anymore.

Now all I could think was that Raven was unpredictable, possibly dangerous, and in the presence of the woman I loved. I wanted Zoey away from her immediately.

"Raven," I greeted her, with a stiff nod.

"Mystique," she corrected immediately.

Next to me, Zoey was a mutant popsicle.

I'd finally come clean to her about Raven and I, but I hadn't mentioned my ex-girlfriend's habit of walking around naked. Definitely an oversight on my part. And it didn't help that she'd dropped in like this, unannounced.

_Someone please shoot me._

"Hello, Beast," Raven said, a Cheshire cat grin on her face. It didn't reach her eyes, which were as cold as a snake's. "Hiding again, I see. Never could accept yourself, could you?"

_Um, let's not talk about my issues right now._

I shifted uncomfortably, immediately defensive. "What're you doing here, Mystique? Does your brother know you're here?"

While we were only occasionally at odds with Erik's Brotherhood, we certainly weren't friends. And that included Raven. Hence my wariness.

"Oh, yes. We just had a little chat and I'm on my way out," she replied archly.

Her attention shifted to Zoey, still tensely standing next to me. She had a vice-like grip on my arm, and her face was ghost-white. I had no idea what she was thinking, and it scared me.

"Who's your little friend?"

"This is my girlfriend," I answered. "Zoey."

Rather than pushing Zoey forward so she could properly greet Raven, I gently pulled my arm backward so I was slightly between the two women. I didn't trust Raven, no matter how peaceful her visit purportedly was.

Zoey finally found her voice. "Hello, Mystique," she said quietly.

"Does she know about you?" Raven asked, her face twisting into a mask of innocence. She didn't acknowledge Zoey's greeting at all. "The  _real_ you? Or do you lie to her and hide yourself like you do to the rest of the world?"

Guilt and shame lowered my eyes to the floor as I thought fleetingly of my nightmare.

_Yes. Yes, I lie and hide from her. But I don't have a choice-_

My silence was answer enough for Raven.

She shook her head, her gaze becoming flint-hard. "What a waste," she hissed. "So much power and beauty, and you hide behind your petty desire to be  _normal_. You could be extraordinary if only you-"

"Hank  _is_  extraordinary," Zoey suddenly cut in, angry red patches appearing on her cheeks. "Don't judge him just because he wants to be known for  _who_  he is, rather than  _what_ he is."

"Some of us don't have that choice," Raven retorted. "So I  _will_  judge him, little girl."

The insult to Zoey finally unstuck the words from my throat, a spark of anger flaring in my chest. "There's no need for-"

Zoey put one of her hands on my shoulder, a plea for silence.

I glanced down at her, feeling disconcerted. Zoey's expression was one of empathy, rather than acrimony, as she looked at the blue woman in front of us.

"Our genes, our appearances, aren't all that we are," she said quietly. "I'm sorry that you feel your mutation is the only way you can identify yourself. I hope one day you can see more to yourself than just what the world perceives in you. Now, please excuse me."

And with that, Zoey gave my hand a squeeze and walked away. My muscles tensed as she passed Raven in the hall, but the other woman merely glared at her.

Raven rounded on me once Zoey was out of sight. "I don't need her pity," she snapped.

"It wasn't pity, Mystique," I replied mildly. "It was compassion."

For a moment I just looked at her, the woman whose DNA had forever changed mine. She was so different from the light-hearted spirit I'd known in 1962. A stranger.

How much had my words to her the night before Cuba affected her life's choices? Had I helped mold Raven into the cold, single-minded woman she was now?

I wanted to apologize for the things I'd said when I was young and foolish, to somehow make it right.

But for some reason I knew that the words would be empty and meaningless to her. Too much time had passed, and the fact that I still hid my mutation made me contemptible in Raven's eyes.

I could do nothing but harbor my regrets in silence for the rest of my life.

"Goodbye, Raven," I murmured.

And then I quickly followed after Zoey.

If only I knew what kind of fallout I was walking into.


	36. The Storm

**The Storm**

I found Zoey leaning against a wall in the garage, clutching at the locket around her neck and staring blankly at nothing. She looked a little shell-shocked.

"Zoey, I-"

I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry my ex-girlfriend dropped in?" "I'm sorry she was naked?" "I'm sorry you were subjected to all of that, but your compassion is awe-inspiring and I'm honored you even give me the time of day?"

My ineptitude in regards to expressing myself had never weighed more heavily on me.

"Please take me home," Zoey said quietly, after an uncomfortable pause.

"Ok," I agreed immediately.

* * *

The ride to her apartment was quiet.  _Too_  quiet.

Silence was never awkward between us anymore, but today, after that run-in with Raven, it was unbearable.

I felt the ground shifting under my feet, the uncomfortable, staticky feeling that comes before a storm. Something was wrong between us, and I was left anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I helped Zoey out of the car and followed her up the stairs to her apartment.

"Zoey, what's wrong?" I blurted as soon as we were sitting on the sofa.

Her cats immediately descended on us, seemingly unperturbed by the tension in the air as they settled in our laps.

_I wish_ my _life was that uncomplicated._

"Did Raven upset you?"

"Well, she  _was_  very naked, which was a surprise. And I didn't appreciate the things she said to you, if that's what you mean," Zoey replied, petting Lucie. "But those are just words. I'll get over it."

"Then what...?"

_Please help me out. I'm dying here._

Her eyes met mine, pure green and beautiful. "When are you going to show me Beast?"

All of the air escaped my lungs in a whoosh, like she punched me. Again, I got that feeling that I was standing on a cliff face, about to slip off.

"W-why do you ask?"

"The look on your face when Raven accused you of hiding from me," she explained. "You looked so... _guilty_."

My ears got warm, and I had to look away.

Guilty? Yes, I was guilty.

"Hank," Zoey pleaded, reaching for my hands. I squirmed under her gaze. "I've been patient, waiting for you to be ready to show me your other side. I thought that eventually you would understand that I love you, and I want to accept you for everything you are. But somehow I get the feeling that you're never going to let me see."

She was right, of course. Zoey always saw right through me.

If I had my way, she would never see the Beast. We would continue on as we had, happy with the small amount of intimacy our relationship afforded us. Yes, I would still be hiding, but that was fine. We would be together.

And then Raven showed up and brought my issues to light, curse her.

I stared at our hands entwined between us. Zoey's fingers were long and tapered, the nails painted a dark blue. Her hands were so small, so soft and delicate.

A monster shouldn't be holding them.

"I can't," I whispered.

Her face crumpled in hurt, and she pulled her hands away.

"Why not?" she asked, now on the verge of tears. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do," I replied quickly.

"Then I don't understand," Zoey said. "If you trust me, you should be comfortable showing me."

"You'll be afraid of me," I told her. It felt like my internal organs were turning to ice. "I would lose you. I couldn't bear it if that happened."

"But how do you know, Hank?" she demanded. "How do you  _know_  I'll be afraid of you?"

"Because it's too much for  _anyone_  to handle," I retorted, bristling and defensive. "I disgust myself. You wouldn't understand, Zoey. You've never been afraid of who you are."

_Oh no. I shouldn't have said that. I take it back, I take it back-_

"Hank, you know that when I was little I set random things on fire whenever I threw temper tantrums. I nearly burned down my father's house and killed us all. I told you that before," Zoey snapped, her voice getting louder as the cats fled in fear.

I wished I could run away too. Somehow we'd stumbled from an uncomfortable discussion straight into an argument. I felt sick to my stomach, and there were angry tears running down Zoey's face.

_Oh no, please don't cry-_

"So don't tell me I don't know what it's like to be afraid of my powers," she continued, practically yelling at me now. "And don't tell me what's going to frighten me. You don't get to decide what scares me,  _I do._  You-"

She cut off, her breasts heaving vehemently as she struggled to put her emotions back in check. She glared at a patch of carpet for a moment.

_Wow. I really made her mad. Should I worry that something is about to burst into flames?_

I'd never seen Zoey even remotely this angry, and certainly not at me. I felt sick to my stomach.

Finally she met my eyes again, no longer furious. Now she just looked... broken.

"You really disgust yourself?" Zoey whispered.

I gave her a curt nod- I thought this was old news. My throat was so tight I couldn't speak.

"I love you, Hank," she said softly. "I  _want_  you. You don't disgust me. Do you think there's something  _wrong_  with me for that? Do you hate yourself that much? Would you think I was some kind of pervert if I still wanted you in your Beast form?"

_Yes. No. Wait- I don't know._

Everything was so muddled and confused in my mind, I couldn't think straight.

"What do I have to do to show you how wonderful you are?" she pleaded. "Please, give me the chance to love all of you. It won't change how I feel about you. Just take a chance and show me."

On the surface what she was asking for seemed so simple. A leap of faith, that she could still love me after seeing the Beast.

But in reality, it was much more complicated. Zoey wanted to see my other side, the side of myself that I hated and was afraid of. I _chose_ to be human- or at least as human as I could be. I didn't  _want_  to be a beast. Why was she trying to make me?

"I can't," I croaked, shaking my head. "What happened to what you said to Raven, about choosing our own self-identifiers? Our mutations not defining who we are? Well, this is my choice. You're trying to force me to be something I don't want to be."

Zoey looked stricken.

"You're right," she whispered, horrified. "I am."

For a brief, shining moment I thought that we would be able to move forward from this. Zoey would understand and accept that this issue wasn't something I would compromise over. We could go on, just like before, and be happy together again.

How delusional I was.

"Do you ever see us getting married?" she asked, out of the blue.

I blinked.

Marriage.

It was something I'd fantasized about, seeing Zoey looking beautiful and walking down the aisle towards me in a lovely white dress. Eating her terrible cooking every night. Waking up next to her every morning. Growing old and gray, together.

But I'd always ignored the mechanics of marriage. All of my realistic visions of our future together ended at the bedroom door- though my more quixotic, ungentlemanly daydreams were definitely a different story. In my fantasies I could be with Zoey completely and still be human. But in reality, physical intimacy like that wasn't possible for me without my feral, instinctual side taking over. I'd shied away from such thoughts accordingly.

It was part of the reason why I'd been so afraid of starting a relationship with Zoey in the first place. Who would want to go to bed with a monster?

And now I was here, facing impossible questions with heartbreaking answers.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

My long silence seemed to be reply enough for Zoey.

She let out a choked sob. "Hank, I want a future with you," Zoey said in a strained whisper. "Marriage, children, the white picket fence, all of it. B-but we both know we can barely make out without you almost losing it and changing into Beast. And that's not who you want to be. We're- we're at an impasse."

_No. Don't say it. Don't say it, Zoey-_

She began to cry in earnest. "I- I think I'd rather end this now, if there's no future for us. Maybe it'll hurt less than d-dragging it out," she sobbed, head in hands.

And there it was. I'd lost my grip on the cliff's edge, and now I was free-falling to the ground below and the painful oblivion that awaited me there.

"Zoey, please- don't do this," I begged.

"I have to," she whispered mournfully.

My eyes stung painfully, forcing me to blink away tears. Against my better judgment, I pulled the weeping mess that was the woman I loved into my arms.

It didn't help, though she melted into my embrace. If anything, Zoey began to cry even harder as she sobbed into my chest. Each of her tears was like a sharp knife, eviscerating me into a thousand, miserable pieces.

"I love you," I told her desperately, smoothing her curls.

"I love you, too," she choked out, clutching at my shirt. "I- I thought- I thought you were-"

_Your Prince Charming._

But there was no glass slipper here, no spell to be broken by a kiss or a declaration of love. Such magic didn't exist.

Beast had lost his Beauty, and all hope of a happily ever after.

"I know. I'm so sorry," I whispered brokenly.

It was excruciating to pull myself away, but somehow I did. Staying longer would only hurt Zoey further, and I couldn't do that to her.

She'd been hurt by me enough, when I started something I knew was doomed and hopeless from the very start.

So I kissed her on the forehead-

And walked out on the best thing that ever happened to me.


	37. Paradigm Shift

**Paradigm Shift**

Three days passed. Three days of exquisite, excruciating agony.

The inadequacies of the English language had never quite struck me so much as in those three days. There were so many words to describe pain- misery, agony, torture, torment- and yet none of them even came close to approaching the suffering I couldn't bear.

I couldn't eat. Even Twinkies- once my favorite food- went down like sawdust, so I quickly gave up that enterprise. All I could think was that Zoey liked Twinkies too. We once polished off an entire box between us on a Sunday afternoon.

The memory sent another ripple of pain through me.

I couldn't breathe past the elephant ( _pygmy elephant- oh, Zoey how could I forget that first night?)_ on my chest, the constriction in my throat. Each inhale felt like more trouble than it was worth.

Sleep was elusive as well. Every time I closed my eyes I saw her. I relived seeing her for the first time that cold February day, when she captured my heart at first sight. Watching her as she looked up at fireworks in the sky, her eyes aglow with joy. Seeing the look on her face when she told me she loved me for the first time.

Watching her cry as she broke both of our hearts.

Her voice, her laughter haunted me. Even as I laid on the floor of my room I thought I heard her giggles, like any moment she would appear and pounce on me. Then I would kiss her and hold her tight-

But of course it didn't happen. I was alone. Zoey had left me, because our situation was just too hopeless to continue.

Now I feared I was starting to hallucinate from lack of food and sleep. Or maybe I was just wishing too hard for her to be with me again.

I didn't leave my room for those three days. I couldn't bring myself to face anyone and pretend that I was anything but miserable. Even my lab, once my refuge, held no allure for me anymore.

Before Zoey, I'd always believed I would be alone. I would live out my life at Xavier's, spending most of my time in the laboratory with minimal human contact. I couldn't see anyone ever wanting me, the Beast.

But then Charles kicked me out of the lab, into the world again, and I'd laid eyes on  _her_. It was like going from an existence of black and white into vivid Technicolor.

I fell deeply, hopelessly in love with the beautiful girl with the firelight hair and infectious laugh. And she slowly coaxed me out into the world, giving me a taste of happiness, of hope.

Zoey was intelligent and kind, funny and brave. She couldn't sing, her cooking was hazardous, and God help anyone who tried to tell her there was something she couldn't do, especially because she was a girl. She was stubborn, and a poor loser.

I knew, deep in my soul, that she was the love of my life.

And now she was gone, and my heart was broken. Colors had leeched away, and I was drowning in a cold darkness without the light of her presence.

_How will I go on?_

* * *

A knock sounded at my door late Monday evening.

"Hey, Beast!" Alex's voice called.

I barely stirred from my spot on the floor, where I lay clutching the book of fairy tales Zoey had gotten me so long ago.

_Maybe if I don't answer he'll go away._

I was definitely not in the mood to speak to him.

"Beast!"

_Nope. Not here._

"Beast, I know you're in there, dammit!" Alex yelled. "Your car's here and you're not in the lab."

I didn't answer, so he took up an endless staccato on the door designed to annoy.

"Go away," I groaned, finally giving in.

Alex, being Alex, ignored that directive. He opened the door and strolled in like he owned the place, turning on the lights as he went.

I grunted in pain from the light lancing into my eyeballs.

"Dude, no one's seen you for days. Everything-?" he began. Then he saw me on the floor. "Jesus, you look awful."

Considering the fact that I hadn't shaved or showered in three days, I could imagine that was true. But did he really have to bring up what a pathetic mess I was?

"I said 'go away,'" I snapped, sitting up.

"What happened to you?"

"Get out," I said flatly. I stood, ready to throw him out the door.

Compassion flashed across his face, an emotion that sat oddly on him. "Did something happen with Zoey?"

At the sound of her name I flinched and froze in my tracks.

"What happened?"

He wasn't going to let it go, I could tell. Even if I kicked him out of my room he was just going to stand there and bang on the door. I sank down on my sofa with head in hands, resigned to an interrogation.

"We broke up," I mumbled.

Alex was quiet for a moment, standing there awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

_He's_ sorry _? Did I just step into the Twilight Zone?_

"Want to talk about it?"

I shrugged. "Not much to say. She wanted me to show her Beast, and I refused."

"Why?"

_Because._

"You know, you being this solicitous is unsettling," I remarked, glancing over at him.

"I don't even know what that word means, Bozo."

_Way to buy it all back, Alex._

"Caring. Thoughtful. It's not really like you," I explained. "What do you care, Alex? You don't even like Zoey."

He shrugged and plopped down in the armchair across from me.

_I made out with Zoey in that chair... Will there ever be a time when I can look at something and_ not  _be reminded of her?_

"I can't be a jerk all the time. It gets exhausting," Alex retorted insolently, averting his eyes. "And I don't mind Zoey. She's just..." He shrugged again. "So, why didn't you show her?"

"Because I don't want to be the Beast. I want to reject that side of me," I told him.

Alex stared at me blankly for a moment before his face twisted into a scowl. "Newsflash, Bozo, that  _is_  who you are. You're not any different when you're Beast."

"That's patently untrue," I snapped. "There's all these impulses-"

"'Impulses?' We all get 'impulses' that we try to control, Hank. Like right now, I have the _impulse_ to punch you in the face for being such an idiot, but I'm holding back. See?"

_Am I really getting advice on impulse control from a man who was in prison?_

Alex just didn't understand... did he?

He did have a dangerous power after all, one that he had to control. Alex landed in prison because he lost it and accidentally killed someone in a moment of anger.

The way he equated my struggle with Beast to resisting the urge to punch me seemed to unfairly trivialize the issue. There was having a feral alter-ego, and then there was just being an ass. It was like comparing apples to oranges.

...Wasn't it?

I shook my head to clear it- this was all so confusing.

"I think the truth is you're scared she'll be afraid of you if she sees you like that," he announced.

"That is a consideration, yes," I agreed. "I don't want to frighten her. It's too much for _anyone_ to-"

"Beast, that girl thinks the sun shines out of your ass," Alex cut in.

He was leaning forward in his seat, practically dripping with sincerity. Again, I felt disconcerted by his candor.

"She's not going to dump you for turning ugly sometimes. To be honest, she's already too hot for you anyway," he said.

"Thanks," I told him sarcastically, though I knew it to be true. And then I quietly admitted, "I don't deserve her."

It was a bitter admission, one that had shadowed my thoughts since I met Zoey. She was too beautiful, too pure, too rich and wonderful for a socially inept nerd like me- and that wasn't even factoring in Beast. It felt cathartic to say aloud, even if it was to Alex of all people.

"Maybe not. But  _she_  thinks you do," Alex retorted.

His word stirred a memory of something Zoey said once. "I  _get to decide what I deserve. Not you. Ok?"_

I shifted in my seat _._

"So you gotta ask yourself, do you trust her opinion? Because if Zoey's so smart and still picked you, maybe you're not as terrible as you think you are."

I blinked, remembering Zoey's words the other night. How she said I implied there was something wrong with  _her_  because she wanted me. It was mind-boggling to think about, that my opinions of myself stemming from my self-hatred reflected poorly on Zoey's judgment.

_No... there's nothing wrong with you, my love. Maybe I'm not some horrible creature, if_ you _think so._

I think Alex sensed the change in my expression, because he pressed on.

"The way I see it, you have two options. You can go and show Zoey Beast and hope she still wants you,  _or_  you can sit here alone and miserable for the rest of your life," he reasoned. "At least if you take a chance and show her, you still at least have a shot at being with her. Here, you're guaranteed to be all lame and broody forever."

_Maybe... maybe for the first time in your life you're right about something, Summers._

"Ok," I muttered. Then, with more certainty, "ok. I need to go talk to her. Thanks, Alex. You've been- a lot of help."

I stood automatically and took a step towards the door.

"Hey!" Alex said, stopping me. "At least shower and change your clothes first. Don't want to look too desperate. And besides, you stink."

"Right," I agreed, thinking robotically.

My mind was already with Zoey, planning my apology, when I halted and looked at Alex suspiciously.

"Why are you being so helpful?"

Alex's expression became a curious mixture of sheepishness and pride. "Charles poked around in your head today because you've been MIA. He told me to come talk to you and said he would buy me a new engine for the Camaro if I got your head out of your ass," he explained. "He thought it would mean more coming from me, because- you know..."

He shrugged.

_Nosy telepaths, I tell you._

I glared at him. "Did Charles tell you what to say?"

Alex rolled his eyes. " _No_. That was all me, being honest with you. I  _earned_  that engine, Beast."

I couldn't find it in myself to be mad at either of them. Charles wanted to help me grow into a better person, just like he had over a year ago when he kicked me out of the laboratory. And even if Alex's intentions had been self-motivated, he'd definitely given me food for thought.

"You did," I agreed.

"Good luck, man. You deserve a little happiness."

"Th-thanks, Alex."

_Now excuse me. I need to go talk to a certain someone._


	38. Revelations

**Revelations**

The drive to Zoey's apartment, which had always felt too short whenever I took her home after dates, was suddenly interminable. My heart was in my throat as I worried and fretted over whether she would accept me as Beast or not.

I wasn't even sure what I would say to Zoey. I'd hoped to think of some sort of little speech, but I couldn't make sense of any of the thoughts swirling around in my head. I just had to start off with an apology and go from-

_My stars and garters, what if she doesn't even let me inside? What if she's decided to move on already?_

Begging.

I would grovel on my knees if I had to. I needed to get Zoey to give me a chance to explain everything, so she could see the Beast and hopefully decide that she still loved me.

The alternative didn't bear thinking of.

Once at the apartment building I sprinted upstairs before taking a moment to compose myself in front of her door. I was freshly showered and shaved so I wouldn't offend her senses, but I imagined I still looked rather haggard after the past few days.

Belatedly, I wondered if I should've brought flowers. I'd been too much of a rush to think of such things, though. I wanted my Zoey back.

It was already past ten, but I saw the glow of a lamp seeping out from underneath the door. She was still awake, or had fallen asleep in the living room.

_Well. Here goes everything._

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Listening carefully, I heard her footsteps on the tile of the foyer cautiously approaching and then the soft scrape of wood.

_That'll be her baseball bat. Oh good heavens, she's armed._

"Who is it?" Zoey called out hesitantly.

"I-it's me," I stuttered through the door. "Hank."

_Please, please open the door._

I heard a soft thunk, like she was putting her bat down. I suspected she had grabbed it in the first place due to the lateness of the hour.

And then the door opened, and there she was, my love, looking like she'd seen a ghost and wearing sweatpants, a tank top, and fluffy bunny slippers.

The past few days had been rough, I could tell. There were dark shadows under her puffy, red-rimmed eyes, and her nail polish- always immaculate- was chipped in several places.

Despite that, I'd never beheld a more beautiful sight. Just seeing her again felt like the release of a breath I hadn't known I was holding.

"H-hi," I said, as eloquent as usual.

"Hi," Zoey whispered. She swallowed thickly, her face slightly puckered in a painful expression. "What are you doing here, Hank?"

Her voice broke a little on my name.

"I came to apologize, and talk," I said hopefully. "C-can I come in?"

Zoey looked completely nonplussed, but nodded and opened the door wider. I stepped inside and went into the living room, noting the small tub of ice cream on the coffee table.

_Chocolate therapy. How's that working for you?_

I remained standing because I was too anxious to sit. Zoey followed me in and stood too, eyeing me warily and waiting for me to speak. She looked so forlorn, and I knew it was _I_ who had made her that way. It was painful to contemplate.

_Come on, McCoy. Say something._

"I'm sorry," I blurted, after a very awkward pause.

She stared at me blankly.

"I'm sorry for hiding from you for all this time and automatically believing that you would be afraid of me," I elaborated. "It was an injustice to you, thinking you would be that shallow when you've done nothing but show me the complete opposite the entire time I've known you. I've been-  _so_  scared to lose you. But now I realize that if I don't show you Beast, I've lost you anyway. And I can't- I can't-"

I took a deep breath.

"I can't handle being without you. These past few days have been  _agony_ , Zoey," I told her honestly. "You said you want a chance to love all of me, and I want that, too."

"But I thought that's not who you want to be," Zoey replied softly.

To her credit, even though I was offering Zoey what she asked for the last time we spoke she didn't jump at the opportunity. Her first thought was of me, and what _I_ wanted. She was truly awe-inspiring. How could I ever deserve her?

_Don't think like that,_  I scolded myself.  _What matters is that she thinks I deserve her. Or at least, she_ did _..._

Despite her objection, I could've sworn I saw a flicker of hope pass over her lovely face.

I stepped closer, holding my breath.

She didn't move, so I hesitantly reached out and took her hands in mine.

And Zoey didn't pull them away. I exhaled.

_Just tell her. Take a chance._

"Beast is  _me_ , and  _I_  am Beast. The strong instinct to protect you, the rage I feel sometimes, how I  _want_  you so much it's hard to think of anything else-"

At my words, Zoey's cheeks turned pink. My own ears felt like they were about to fall off from embarrassment, but I soldiered on.

"-I've blamed it on Beast, because I've always clung to logic and reason, trying to be a scientist first. But I'm starting to realize that the things I feel are just  _normal_. Part of being human. Maybe they're a lot more intense for me because I'm a feral, but part of being human is controlling the impulses we get. Alex, of all people, pointed that out to me," I explained, with a wry grin to hide how nervous I was.

Zoey smiled faintly in return. My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn't stop the faint flutter of hope that bubbled up in my chest.

"So, you can't force me to be something I already am," I concluded, almost facetiously. "I'm always the same person on the inside, even if my face is different."

"But do you still hate yourself?" she asked quietly.

The question immediately sobered me.

I looked at our hands entwined between us, deliberating. I was not a man to make grand speeches, but I was fighting for the love of my life here. Finding the words to properly express myself had never been more important.

"Well, you like me. At least you  _did,_ " I muttered uncertainly.

_Please, love me still._

"And you're the smartest person I know. So I'll trust your judgment."

Zoey let out a startled giggle, to my bemusement. I was trying to be serious.

But still, the sound made a warm glow surging through me, down to my fingers and toes. Like a spring thaw overtaking the winter ice around my heart. Words could not describe how much I had missed her laughter.

"That's a start, at least. I'll take it," Zoey murmured, with a tiny smile. There were tears in her eyes. "Oh, Hank. I missed you so much."

_"Missed?" As in, past tense? Yes!_

She threw herself into my arms, taking deep, shuddering breaths while I held her tightly. It sounded like she was trying (and failing) to hold back tears. I buried my face in her curls, inhaling her sweet scent while we both took a minute to recover from the ordeal of our separation. It felt like I was forgiven, and I was practically drowning in an overwhelming sense of relief.

_I must not cry, I must not cry._

"Me, too," I croaked, my throat constricted with emotion.

After a few minutes Zoey's breathing calmed. She stood on tiptoe to press a soft, salty kiss to my lips before pulling away from me and wiping her eyes furiously.

"I must look a mess," she muttered, sniffling loudly.

She did, but I wasn't about to tell her that.

"I don't care," I replied instead. "You're beautiful to me anyway."

Zoey laughed, a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my courage. This enchanting angel wanted to love all of me, and even though I was still wary, I needed to give her that chance.

"I don't want to hide from you anymore, Zoey," I said.

My voice came out much more self-assured than I felt. I wasn't confident- truthfully, I was on the verge of panicking. My palms were sweaty and my hands shook slightly as I took off my glasses.

Zoey nodded. She looked nervous too, like she was holding her breath. I couldn't say I blamed her for being apprehensive.

_This is it._

I stepped back from her, closed my eyes, and let go.

I let go of my carefully cultivated self-control, and for once welcomed the feral side of me. The side from whence my darkest impulses came, the side of myself that had scared me for so long.

But it  _was_  a part of me, and if I was going to have Zoey in my life I needed to accept and embrace that. Mutant, feral- the entire human experience in all its pure, raw intensity would be mine. And for the first time I was looking forward to it, because my love would hopefully be at my side.

I shivered a little as I felt the change sweep over me, like I was bursting out of my own skin. Blue fur sprouted all over my body and my muscles expanded, while my teeth became fangs and my nails grew into claws.

I was Beast, metaphorically laying myself at Beauty's feet.

What would she think of me?

Zoey let out a small gasp. Like she was drawing breath for a scream.

_Oh no._


	39. Acceptance

**Acceptance**

I flinched, waiting in a horrific, ceaseless eternity for Zoey's screams to rip through the air.

_That's it. She hates me._

I wanted to turn and run for it rather than face Zoey's disgust, following so closely on the heels of our reconciliation. My disappointment and despair were crushing, like a tidal wave, and I felt myself falling into a sorrowful abyss.

There would be no happy ending for this Beast after all.

"Oh, Hank!" Zoey squealed.

And then she started to giggle, laughing giddily like she hadn't a care in the world. Like her boyfriend _hadn't_ just turned into a blue version of Lon Chaney, Jr. in  _The Wolf Man._

My eyes sprang open in shock just in time for me to react to Zoey jumping up into my arms. I caught her easily round the waist as she threw her arms around my neck, her feet leaving the ground completely.

The elated, relieved smile on Zoey's face barely registered in my brain before she pressed her lips to mine.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. This was far from the revulsion I still half-expected, despite her reassurances to the contrary. Could this really be happening?

I was too bewildered to even respond to the kiss before Zoey pulled back, her face remaining mere inches from mine. She was still smiling.

I had to be imagining her expression. Wonder, love, acceptance- it was all there, shining out of her eyes and warming my soul from the inside out.

_Is this a dream? No, it can't be. My imagination isn't this good._

One of Zoey's hands came up to stroke my face, her fingertips brushing my skin like gossamer wings while she looked me over. I leaned into her touch automatically.

"You're  _beautiful_ , Hank" she said softly, with no trace of a lie in her luminous green eyes.

_Beautiful?_

For a moment my composure completely deserted me and I couldn't even speak. I could only bury my face in Zoey's neck and hold her tight, trying to silently communicate my gratitude and love.

I let out a bone-deep, shuddering sigh of relief- almost a sob. It felt like a heavy burden had lifted itself off of me, leaving me feeling weightless and euphoric.

Zoey accepted me.  _All_  of me. It was something I never thought would be possible, but this girl- this beautiful woman, found it within herself to love every part of me completely.

And I was  _so_  profoundly thankful. Thankful to her, and to whatever powers at be in the universe for allowing me to find her when I stepped into a random cafe one day. It felt like fate was smiling down on me for the first time in my life.

_I am_ not  _crying. There's just something in my eye._

"Shh, it's ok," she murmured, stroking the fur on the back of my neck. "I love you."

She loved me, she truly did. And I loved her,  _wanted_  her with every fiber of my being. I knew what it was like to be without Zoey now, and it wasn't an experience I ever wanted to repeat. I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life. I wanted to be the man she saw me as, so worthy of her esteem. To be her Prince Charming, to have a "happily ever after," together.

I pulled back so I could see Zoey's eyes again. I held her securely around the waist, so her feet still weren't touching the ground.

Her bunny slippers had long since fallen to the floor, her hair was a mess, her face was still streaked with tear stains, and she looked like she hadn't slept for days. Zoey wasn't exactly dressed for hearing a proposal, but I didn't care. If I couldn't accept her at her worst, I didn't deserve Zoey at her best.

"Will you marry me, Zoey?"

Zoey's mouth fell open in a perfect "O" shape, and her eyes were suddenly as round as saucers. She looked more than a little shocked.

_Say "hello" to the new, carpe diem Hank, my love. Old, over-thinking Hank almost lost you and we're never doing that again._

"I love you, Zoey. I've loved you since the moment I first saw you," I explained earnestly. "I want to spend the rest of my life loving all of you and  _being_  loved by you. Please, marry me?"

"Yes," Zoey said, nodding happily. Her smile was dazzling, her eyes shining from what I  _hoped_  were tears of joy. "Yes, I'll marry you."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding while waiting for her answer, suddenly feeling lighter than air. I had a suspicion that there was a big stupid grin on my furry blue face, but in that moment I was too elated to care about unnerving Zoey with the sight of my fangs.

And besides- she really didn't seem to mind, anyway.

* * *

"So  _Alex_ , of all people, gave you a pep talk?" Zoey asked incredulously.

We were now snuggled up on the couch, and she was stroking my hand. My other arm was around her shoulders, holding her close.

The feeling of her fingertips gliding across my palm was a little distracting because it felt so tantalizing, like tiny electric shocks shooting along my nerve endings. All of my senses and emotions were heightened when I was like this, so Zoey's touch was making it difficult to concentrate on conversation.

But I was still  _behaving_  myself. I tried to focus on soaking up her presence, reveling in the fact that I was here next to Zoey. After thinking for a time that I would never be with her again, now more than ever was there nowhere else I'd rather be than at her side _._

I managed to nod. "Charles promised him a new engine for his car," I explained.

Zoey laughed. "Oh, I doubt that's all there was to it. But even if it was, I can't say I'm upset over his selfish motives. Remind me to thank him."

"Ok," I agreed absently.

I reached up and ran my claws through her hair, marveling again that she didn't flinch away from me. My face must have reflected my amazement, because Zoey picked up on it immediately and frowned.

"You don't scare me, Hank," she said, turning slightly so she could cradle my face in both hands. "You look like a cuddly blue teddy bear."

She leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose.

"So you have a thing for teddy bears?" I quipped sardonically.

The comment was reflexive, despite the progress I'd made, and fueled by a lifetime of insecurity. It was meant to be self-deprecating, but then I realized a split second too late that it was actually almost an insult to her by implying that she had some sort of fetish.

Zoey glowered at me and shook my face a little. Like she was trying to knock some sense into me.

"No," she said sharply. "I have a thing for  _you,_ Hank McCoy. My  _fiance._ "

_"Fiance." My stars and garters, we're getting married._

I grinned weakly, trying to mask the flood of nervous excitement that rushed over me. "My apologies, Dr. Dubois," I told her, trying to make amends.

She appeared to be mollified. Or perhaps I'd just distracted her, because Zoey's expression immediately became thoughtful and maybe even a little shy.

"I guess there's going to be two Dr. McCoy's now, isn't there?" she mused, a hint of a blush coming to her cheeks.

_"Dr. Zoey McCoy." I like the sound of that._

"I guess so," I agreed, grinning.

She closed her eyes and turned her face upward for a kiss, an invitation to which I responded eagerly. I'd been dying for it the entire time she'd been gently caressing me, but I was too afraid to make the first move. But now that we'd started I wanted more than just a peck on the lips. Thankfully Zoey replied enthusiastically.

Our kisses started out soft and reassuring, but they quickly escalated as my feral instincts took hold. It was a completely new experience, being with Zoey when I was like this. She tasted sweeter, her skin felt softer, and her scent... her scent just about killed me.

Before I knew it we'd adjusted so Zoey was laying down on the sofa cushions, my body covering hers. My claws tangled in her curls while I kissed her hungrily, fervently. Finally letting go of the stranglehold I'd always maintained on my self-control felt amazing.

The air crackled with the passion between us, and any vague fears that I was pushing her too far disappeared as she matched my ardor with her own. She  _wanted_ me, by some miracle. It took everything in me not to simply fall down and worship at her feet.

Zoey's hands wandered under my shirt, discovering the contours of my chest and back in my Beast form. My hands explored too, relishing every inch of smooth, bare tummy I found because her tank top had ridden up. When she broke away from my mouth with a gasp I moved to kiss down her chest instead.

"Hank," she said, in a breathy whisper. Her fingers were buried in the fur on the back of my neck.

"Hmm?"

"I- I think we're getting a little- carried away."

I immediately stopped and pulled back, going against my more base impulses. I felt properly chastised for pushing too far- it was a pertinent example of why I'd always been rather reserved with Zoey before. The second I let go just a little...

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

It was completely mortifying, and I couldn't even look Zoey in the eye as we both sat up and composed ourselves.

_Does she think I proposed to her just to get her in bed- er, couch?_

"Stop brooding," Zoey scolded lightly, snuggling against me once more now that we were upright. " _I_  was the one getting too hot and bothered. That was  _fun._ "

I grinned sheepishly, noting that her cheeks were bright red.

It was a little boost to my ego, to be truthful. Up until now  _I'd_  always been the way to pull away and stop us, for fear of my feral side coming out. But the fact that Zoey stepped away this time, because she was on the verge of losing her own self-control... I was almost proud of myself, in a way. Who doesn't like to hear that their girlfriend-  _fiance_ \- wanted them?

"It was," I admitted.

"I'm looking forward to marrying you, Hank," Zoey said shyly.

My entire body warmed at the thought. It felt like my cheeks were about to melt off.

"Oh, your face is turning purple!" she suddenly gushed. "That's  _adorable_!"


	40. Sharing the News

  **Sharing the News**

The next morning it felt like I floated down to breakfast, rather than walked. Of course the others noticed immediately, but for once I wasn't embarrassed by my happiness.

"He's gracing us with his presence," Alex announced as I took my seat.

Usually I would've replied with some sort of glare, but today I just grinned at him and started piling my plate with bacon and eggs. I couldn't be annoyed at Alex today, not after his help the night before.

"And he's eating," Sean observed. "That's a good sign."

I shrugged.

"Well, Hank?" Charles prompted after an expectant pause. They could obviously tell that last night had gone well, but not  _how_  well. "Something you want to share?"

My ears warmed and I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the response to my news.

"I showed Zoey the Beast and she wasn't afraid of me," I announced. "And... I'm getting married."

Alex and Sean's reactions were predictably exuberant. Sean let out a whoop of laughter, and Alex thumped me in the back so hard I almost face-planted into my food. Moira and Charles were more reserved, though they still offered warm congratulations.

"We're planning your bachelor party," Alex announced, with a smirk.

I blanched. "No thanks," I said hastily. "I'll pass on having one."

"Why not?" Sean asked, looking wounded.

_Because between the two of you I'd be lucky to survive the night and make it to the altar?_

"Debauchery in general is not my thing," I replied diplomatically.

The other X-Men looked slightly put out about my refusal, but thankfully conceded the point. I would still keep my eye on them though- I wouldn't put it past Alex to try to kidnap me.

_Thank heavens I can outrun him._

"Have you set a date?" Charles asked, changing the subject.

I shook my head sheepishly.

I'd proposed in the heat of the moment, without any sort of plan, and had been too distracted basking in the glow of Zoey's acceptance of me to think of any details afterwards. I honestly didn't care when or how we got married, as long as it happened.

"I'm guessing you don't have a ring yet. Do you need help finding one?" Moira added.

_A ring? Oops._

I was out of my depth in that department. Luckily, I knew just who to ask...

* * *

"Livie, I need your help," I said, kneeling next to the little girl's seat.

"What's wrong, Mr. Hank?" Olivia asked. Her brow puckered in concern. "Is something wrong with Auntie?"

_Um... not anymore? I think?_

"No," I said hastily. "I need to buy Zoey a ring, and I was hoping-"

Olivia's face lit up, and it looked like her big brown eyes were about to fall out of her head. "A ring?" she squeaked, sitting up straighter. "Are you going to ask Auntie Zoey to marry you?"

"I already did," I replied sheepishly. My ears started to get warm. "She said 'yes.' Now I-"

Olivia looked horrified. "You asked her already with no ring?"

_Why do I feel like I'm in trouble?_

"Erm-"

"You're  _supposed_  to have a ring, Mr. Hank," she practically yelled at me. "The boy is supposed to get down on one knee and pull out a ring and-"

_I'm getting scolded by an eight year old. I've definitely reached a new low._

"I want you to help me, though," I said tentatively. "It's important and I don't want to get the wrong one."

Olivia's demeanor instantly changed at my mollifying words. She puffed up with self-importance. "Ok," she agreed seriously. "I'll help you find the perfect ring for Auntie."

Then she squealed and hugged me around the neck so tightly I couldn't breathe for a second.

"You're going to be my uncle now! I'm so excited!"

My heart melted a little at her sincere exuberance. We were an odd pair, but Olivia and I made a good team. I was looking forward to officially being able to call her my family.

"Me, too, Livie," I told her. "Me, too."

* * *

You'd think I would be done getting yelled at for the day. But you'd be wrong.

It was a Tuesday, so in the afternoon I headed over to Marceline's Cafe and Bookstore like I'd been doing for over a year now. My plan was to arrive a little early and speak to Billy before Zoey got there.

An old-fashioned part of me wanted to ask him for his blessing, even though I'd already proposed, since Billy was the closest person Zoey had to a father. I was truly trying my best to do right by her, despite our relationship's strange beginning.

A quick glance around as I stepped inside told me that the shop was blissfully empty for once. That meant no audience for my suit, for which I was very grateful. I was nervous as it was.

"You!" Marceline snarled as soon as she saw me. She brandished a pair of pastry tongs behind the counter.

_Um, me?_

I froze, unsure of what to do. "H-hi, Mrs. Rivers?"

"Get out of my store," she ordered flatly, marching out from behind the counter.

"Wha-?"

May I add she was still holding the tongs like a weapon?

I backed away from the angry French woman until I felt my shoes thunk up against the wall. Words utterly failed me, and I suddenly found myself wishing for some witnesses to whatever she was about to do to me with those pastry implements.

_Trapped! I'm trapped._

"How dare you come back here, after breaking Zoey's heart? Seeing you is only going to bring her more pain! I thought you had more common decency than to show up and-"

Everything I planned to say to Zoey's godparents fled in the face of Marceline's tirade. Now I was scrambling just to recover from my unwelcome reception.

To make matters worse, Billy appeared out of the back room at that moment, obviously notified by Marceline's raised voice. The usually mild-mannered man looked angrier than I'd ever seen him. He opened his mouth to speak-

"I asked Zoey to marry me last night," I blurted, holding up my hands in a peaceful gesture.

This made Marceline pause, though she still held the tongs at the ready.

_Do I even want to know what you intend to do with those?_

"She called us Sunday and said you broke up," Marceline said suspiciously. "She said she wanted to be alone for a while."

That sounded like a typical Zoey move. If she felt she couldn't hide her depression, she secluded herself because she hated bringing other people down. Even the people who wanted to be there for her, like her godparents or myself. The fact that Zoey had cried in front of me over our break up was a sign of just how deeply it hurt her. Otherwise, she was a rock about that sort of thing- much more prone to happy tears than tears of sadness.

"We did break up," I agreed, purposely choosing to skirt around the details of  _why._ Billy and Marceline were unaware of my second mutation. "But then last night we talked and I proposed and-"

_Someone shoot me. This has to be the worst request for a blessing in the history of time._

"She said 'yes,'" I finished weakly. "And I was hoping you- wouldn't mind?"

For a full thirty seconds Billy and Marceline (who was still wielding her pastry tongs) stood silent and stock-still, like bewildered statues, while I waited awkwardly for their reaction.

And then, as one, they burst into laughter- so synchronous that it was actually a little disturbing. It made me wonder if married couples started to share one brain after a certain amount of time.

I couldn't help feeling slightly offended that they were laughing at me. Was the idea of Zoey marrying me that ridiculous?

"I knew it!" Marceline cheered, between chuckles. "Oh, Hank."

She closed the distance between us and gave me a hug, along with a kiss on each cheek while my ears began to burn with bashfulness and embarrassment. Their laughter confused me, and once again I cursed my inability to understand social situations.

_At least I'm not being threatened with the tongs anymore, I guess._

"K-knew what?" I asked, as Billy joined us and clapped me on the back.

"We knew you wouldn't be able to stay away from Zoey, kid," Billy explained, while Marceline nodded. She was smiling, so I took that to be a good sign. "You just needed some time to figure it out."

_Or as Alex put it, I needed to get my head out of my ass._

"Right. So... you don't mind? I'd really like your blessing," I said hopefully. Taking a deep breath, I continued, "Zoey is everything I could ever dream of and more. I love her and I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy."

Zoey's godparents exchanged knowing glances while I tried to keep myself from going to pieces. Asking for approval on such an important subject was  _nerve-wracking_.

I knew Billy and Marceline meant a lot to Zoey, but their opinion also carried a lot of weight with me. I hoped they wanted me to be a part of their family as much as I did.

Isn't it strange, the way love just seems to build on itself? By falling for Zoey I had also met and come to care for her godparents and niece as well. It was almost like loving one person just opened the door to caring for and connecting with even more people. I would've never realized that but for Zoey.

"Welcome to the family, kid," Billy told me, shaking my hand. "Just- take care of her."

"Thank you, sir," I said earnestly. "I will."

A goofy smile came to my face, but I didn't care. I was slowly learning that spending time feeling self-conscious when you were truly happy was a complete waste of time.

"And it might be better if you were the cook in the marriage," Billy added. "I love Zoey, but the girl's a health hazard in the kitchen. Don't tell her I said that."

The three of us were still laughing when Zoey walked in.

She eyed all of us curiously. "What's so funny?" she asked. "Marcy, why are you holding pastry tongs?"

_She used them to threaten me with bodily harm._

"No reason," Marceline lied blithely. She stepped in to give her goddaughter a hug. "Hank's just told us. Congratulations,  _ma petite._  Let me see the ring."

_Um..._

She picked up Zoey's left hand. A hand completely bereft of any rings, and certainly empty of an engagement ring.

"Hank, you went over to apologize and  _proposed without a ring?_ I thought you knew better than that!"

And then Marceline smacked me upside the head with pastry tongs.


	41. Important Considerations

**Important Considerations**

"I can't believe you made this sauce from scratch," Zoey announced, looking slightly dejected. "I'm jealous."

We were in her apartment and eating the lasagna I'd made after our visit to the cafe. Having taken Billy's advice about Zoey's cooking to heart, I'd volunteered to make dinner this evening.

_I'm not giving up on her. I'm just... giving in to the inevitable._

Besides, it was nice to eat a meal not accompanied by the smell of something burning.

"I officially vote that you do the cooking from now on."

I couldn't help grinning as I took a sip of Coke. "Billy actually suggested that. He called you a health hazard in the kitchen," I noted with amusement. "He also said not to tell you that."

Zoey's expression became stormy. "Why does no one tell me these things?" she grouched, crossing her arms in disgust. "Now I'm mad at both of them."

"'Both of them?'" I asked curiously.

"I didn't appreciate Marceline smacking you for proposing without a ring."

I chuckled, trying to indicate that I wasn't really offended. Considering how upset she was with me when I first walked into the cafe, I felt like Marceline had let me off easy.

"Livie yelled at me for that, too. She told me the boy is supposed to get down on one knee and pull out a ring and ask the girl to marry him," I explained wryly. "I asked her to help me pick out a ring for you."

Zoey's cheeks turned pink. "You don't have to do that," she assured me. "And your proposal was  _perfect_ , Hank. Honest and sincere, just like you. It was much more romantic than if you'd planned it out or something."

My ears started to burn, and I had to look away from bashfulness. At least Zoey appreciated my uncharacteristic act of impulsiveness. Every one else seemed to think I did it "wrong" somehow. But really, wasn't her opinion the one that mattered?

As if echoing my thoughts, Zoey muttered, "everyone else can take their 'supposed to' and shove it. Maybe we should elope just to spite them all."

I blinked, allowing my bewilderment to register in my expression. "Is that something you really want? To elope?"

She shrugged, focusing on her plate and not meeting my eyes. It immediately raised my suspicions.

I'd envisioned Zoey wanting a fairy tale wedding that involved her family and our friends. A princess dress, a large reception, the works. But now she claimed otherwise, and I had a feeling I knew why. It certainly didn't involve a passing irritation with her niece and godparents.

With a heavy sigh I stood and went around to Zoey's side of the table. She eyed me with evident confusion as I knelt by her side.

"Hank?"

"You asked me to stop hiding from you, and I did," I told her seriously, taking her hands in mine. "Now I'm asking you to do the same and stop hiding when you're upset about something. You don't have to be strong for me, Zoey."

She frowned.

"If you truly want to elope, I'll take you down to the courthouse and we'll get married tomorrow. But I have a feeling this is about your dad not being here to walk you down the aisle. Isn't it?"

Zoey's face fell, and that's when I knew I was correct. And I hated that it was something I couldn't fix and make better for her.

The only thing I could think to do was to sit down, right on the kitchen floor, and pull Zoey into my lap. She came willingly enough, and we were immediately surrounded by curious felines who wanted to know why the humans were on their level.

"You can talk to me," I encouraged, after I shooed away our audience.

She tucked her face up against my neck. Her eyelashes tickled my skin, but I held myself still.

"I want him here," Zoey mumbled. "I want them  _both_  here for this, which is stupid, because I don't even remember Maman. But my dad-"

Her breath caught, but when she spoke again her voice was steady.

"And then I think about Billy and Marceline, and I know I shouldn't feel that way, because I know that they're here for me no matter what."

_Oh, they're here for you alright. Ready and willing to beat me with pastry tongs for hurting you._

"I-I think you should feel however you want to feel," I murmured, stroking her hair. "There's nothing wrong with missing your parents."

"Do you miss yours?" Zoey asked, pulling back so she could see my face.

My parents... now that was a Pandora's Box better left unopened. I hadn't even spoken to them in over four years, and I hadn't seen them since I paid a visit to Dundee, Illinois immediately after graduating from Harvard but prior to starting my job at the CIA. That was nine years ago.

Growing up, I'd always done my best to excel academically to please my parents. If only I was "good" enough, I hoped that perhaps they wouldn't view me as such a disappointment. I was quiet and polite- any fights that involved me at school could be more accurately referred to as beatings, because I was a complete pacifist. It wasn't until I changed into Beast that I learned to fight back- though even now I favored diplomacy and appeasement to violence.

I knew my monkey feet were a source of shame for my parents, and maybe even of guilt. My father's accident at the nuclear plant where he worked was doubtless the reason behind my mutation, and sometimes I wondered if that was all he could think of when he looked at me. That this was his fault.

My thirst for my parents' approval was part of what drove me to develop my original serum in the first place. If only I could be normal, they would come to see me as something more than just a mistake. But after my failure in that regard I came to accept that I would never be the son they wanted. My very genetic makeup precluded that.

It used to hurt, being a disappointment to them simply for being born this way. I certainly hadn't  _asked_  to be a mutant. But I'd found a new family at Xavier's, and with Zoey. My parents' disapproval no longer had the power to hurt me. Much.

"No," I finally replied. "Though I suppose you could say that I miss the  _idea_  of what parents are supposed to be. People who love and support you unconditionally... I haven't truly experienced that. You can't miss something you never had in the first place."

Zoey put her arms around my neck. "Yes, you can," she disagreed softly.

I shrugged. "Family doesn't have to be genetic, and I'm happy with the one I've chosen," I told her seriously. I brushed a lock of hair back from her face. "You, Livie, Billy and Marceline, everyone at Xavier's... that's a better family than I could ever ask for."

"Do you want your parents at the wedding?"

I shook my head. "If they wanted to see me, they could've picked up the phone at any point in the past nine years. I've made my peace with that."

She searched my eyes with hers. I thought for a second that she was going to argue with me, but then she nodded slowly. "Ok."

For a long moment we were silent.

When she spoke again, Zoey sounded rather shy. "I hope we make good parents, if we have kids. I want our children to grow up knowing they're loved no matter what."

"'Children?' More than one?" I teased. I tried to keep my tone light, even though my stomach just did a somersault.

"Yes," Zoey said, blushing furiously. She suddenly looked unsure of herself, reading my reaction. "Someday."

"I'd like that," I agreed, grinning at her. "But first we need to figure out getting married and where we're going to live."

I knew living at Xavier's wasn't an option because of Zoey's cats, so it was really down to me moving into her apartment or finding an entirely new place. I just wanted to know which she would prefer.

"We could live here," she offered. "Unless you want to buy a house. But I own this building, so..."

"You do?"

Zoey nodded. "It's a good little investment. Plus, I thought that it would be better than answering to a landlord, considering how often I set off the smoke alarm," she explained sheepishly. "Oh- stop laughing!"

It took me a moment to stop chuckling, but I did.

"Let's wait on buying a house and live here, then," I finally said. "I already spend most of my time here anyway. Might as well make it official."

_Also, just the concept of moving all of your things gives me a headache, my lovely little pack rat._

She giggled and kissed me on the cheek.

"Tell me what kind of wedding you want, Zoey," I urged. "I just want to make your dreams come true."

"You already have," she replied, smiling when my cheeks turned red. "I don't want a big wedding, Hank. Let's just have our friends and family with us. I wish my parents could be here, but... we should be glad for the family we have. The family we've chosen."

I nodded, though my heart still ached for her.

"I love you," Zoey murmured.

"I love you," I replied, kissing her temple.

_Always._


	42. Troll Hands!

  **Troll Hands!**

School always ended at one o'clock on Fridays during the winter, so immediately after class Olivia and I set out for our latest mission: finding Zoey an engagement ring.

I drove us to the same mall in Yonkers we'd visited to find Zoey's birthday present, listening all the while to Olivia singing along to The Beatles on the radio in a horrifically off-key voice. I was trying desperately not to laugh at her, and it was  _hard_.

_I wonder if the tone-deafness is a family trait?_

_"I am the walrus! Goo goo gojoob!"_  Olivia shouted, while I died a little on the inside. She poked me in the arm. "Sing along, Mr. Hank!"

"No thanks," I replied, gasping for air to suppress my guffaws. "I'd rather have Mr. Lennon do the singing."

She pouted. "Party pooper. You're no fun."

_Hey. If you prick me, do I not bleed?_

"You're hurting my feelings," I teased. "I was planning on getting us hot cocoa when we were done, but that sounds like it would be too much fun for a party pooper like me."

Olivia perked up immediately. "And brownies?"

_Hello, sugar high._

"Maybe," I told her.

She giggled, probably already contemplating what kind of brownies she wanted. After all, "maybe" usually turned into "yes" with me for the simple fact that I was a complete and utter pushover.

_And Zoey says she's a bad authority figure... I wonder how she's doing right now?_

My thoughts of Zoey were twinged with guilt. Olivia and I were out having a good time while my fiance was stuck in business meetings all day.

Zoey's company was doing better than ever. Share prices had climbed almost 25% since she assumed control, much to the chagrin of her critics. At the moment she was in the middle of negotiating a merger with a smaller corporation. It was going well, but deep down I worried about Zoey over-working herself.

She had told me that letting go of the company her great-grandfather founded was out of the question, but she felt her life's calling was in genetics. She hoped to branch out and build up a conglomerate that would allow her to develop a research laboratory. It would take some time and a lot of hard work to get there, but I had every confidence that Zoey could do it. She amazed me in so many ways.

Rather than feeling like her success was a threat to my masculinity or something silly like that, I felt incredibly proud of her, and rather honored. Zoey was so smart, so shrewd, and could have anyone she wanted. And she wanted  _me._

Olivia interrupted my moment of introspection by poking my arm again. She grinned brightly when I glanced over and started doing a little dance in her seat, obviously goading me.

_"Goo goo gojoob! Go goo-"_

_Oh, fine. If you can't beat them, join them._

And, much to my future niece's delight, I started singing along.

* * *

It was the same salesman that had helped us with Zoey's birthday present so many months ago behind the counter when we walked into the jewelry store.

"Hello," he said warmly. He looked rather amused. "What are we getting for auntie today?"

Clearly, he recalled our earlier visit- and to be fair, a mismatched pair like Livie and I _were_ rather memorable. His friendly reception surprised me slightly, considering the man's incredulous greeting last time we were here. But then I realized he probably smelled a sale in the making and wanted to butter us up from the start.

"Hi," I replied. I glanced at his name tag. "Mr. Williams. We're here to find an engagement ring."

The salesman's eyes gleamed. "Well you've come to the right place. Let me show you our selection. We have all the latest trends-"

"Auntie doesn't like trends," Olivia cut in, frowning at the man. "She likes what's pretty."

Mr. Williams eyebrows raised. When he glanced at me I could only give him a rather unhelpful shrug.

"Let me show you," Olivia griped, letting out a huff of impatience. She stepped closer to the display case, raising her hand like she was going to touch him-

I reached out and grabbed her hand, trying to make the gesture look natural as I playfully swung our arms between us. It was a quick save, if I do say so myself.

"What she's trying to say is, her aunt isn't necessarily a fan of the latest in fashion," I hastily explained, taking my cue from the images Olivia was projecting into my mind. "She'd prefer something more classic, I think."

_You can't use your powers on strangers, Livie,_  I mentally communicated.  _Remember?_

She nodded, looking contrite.  _I'm sorry. I forgot._

I gave an internal sigh. On one hand, Olivia was now happy among her own kind at Xavier's. She was growing comfortable with using her powers, having a place to belong. But it was easy for a child to forget when they're surrounded by other mutants all the time that they shouldn't flash their abilities in public, around humans. That was one of the downsides of being secluded away at mutant school- almost a sense of disconnect from the rest of the world.

_It's fine,_ I promised.

Mr. Williams thankfully didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. He probably thought Olivia had a problem respecting other people's personal space.

_He might have a point there..._  I thought to myself, thinking of the way she always poked people to get their attention.

"I have more classic rings too," the salesman assured us. "Right over here."

We were in the jewelry store for a long time again, but this time it was partially my fault. I knew how important this purchase was- Zoey would hopefully be wearing this ring for the rest of her life, and I wanted to get the right one. As such, I voiced my opinion this time, rather than sitting back and letting Olivia choose.

Which was probably a good thing, because she made a beeline for the biggest, most expensive diamonds in the store.

"Livie, I don't think she's going to want a ring with a marble-sized diamond," I said patiently, while Mr. Williams looked on with no small amount of amusement over our bickering.

"Says you," Olivia muttered. She pointed at another ring, this one completely encrusted with diamonds. "What about that one?"

"Still too gaudy and ostentatious," I contended. "That one is going to make Zoey look like she has tiny troll hands."

Olivia started to giggle. "'Troll hands?' I'm going to tell Auntie you said she has troll hands!"

"I did _not_ say that," I argued, with righteous indignation. "I said that ring would make it  _look_  that way."

"Troll hands! Troll hands!"

I sighed.

I knew the only way to distract Olivia now would be to find the perfect ring, so I focused on searching while she danced around. Finally, my eyes landed on a promising prospect.

It was an Edwardian style, 1.38 carat round cut diamond ring with filigree details and tiny diamonds along the platinum setting. What I liked most about it was the way the prongs holding the center stone in place were subtly shaped like hearts. It looked dainty while still managing to not seem cheesy.

All in all, it had "Zoey" written all over it. Sweet but elegant, classic and yet still stylish.

"Troll-!"

"What do you think of this one, Livie?" I interrupted, pointing it out.

"Ooooh! I like that one!" she squealed.

"We'll take it," I told Mr. Williams- quickly, before Olivia could change her mind. Otherwise we'd never get out of there.

_Thank goodness we don't need to buy a card this time._

* * *

It was  _Star Trek_ night, so after dinner Zoey and I cuddled up with the cats on her sofa to watch television. It felt so...  _right_  to be there with her, especially considering the events of last Friday. I shuddered whenever my thoughts drifted to our break up.

_Never again,_ I told myself.  _I'm never letting her go again._

Her ring was nestled in a box in my pocket, properly sized and ready to be slipped on her finger. I'd measured Zoey's ring size on Tuesday evening with a piece of string after she fell asleep on the couch.

I didn't blame her at all for her exhaustion. Neither of us had slept much during our separation, and then we'd stayed up late Monday night talking to each other. She had a right to be tired, and I'd used the opportunity to my advantage.

Now I sat listening to Zoey tell me about her day. The merger was going well, and she hoped that the negotiations would be complete by the end of next week. It looked like she would be able to keep the new company mostly intact, meaning minimal job loss.

"What about you?" she asked. "How was your day?"

I shrugged, grinning. "Livie's dorm monitor yelled at me for giving her too much sugar again."

Zoey laughed. "Did you make another cake together?"

"No," I replied, chuckling. "We grabbed some hot cocoa and brownies after an errand."

"An errand?"

"Yeah."

_Here goes..._

I took a deep breath and slipped off the couch, kneeling down in front of her. Zoey looked startled as I pulled out the ring box and opened it for her.

"We went to go get you this," I explained nervously, seeing the astonishment in her expression.

"Oh, my stars and garters," she whispered in an awed voice. "Hank-  _wow_."

_Hey. Trademark infringement!_

Zoey's hands were trembling when she reached for the box, so I wordlessly took out the ring and slipped it onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.

Personally, I liked the way it looked on her hand- simply because it was like a visual announcement to the world that she was to be my wife. But it was Zoey's opinion that really mattered in this regard.

"Do you like it?" I asked anxiously.

"'Like it?' It's  _perfect_ , Hank," she replied, with a dazzling smile that made all of my doubts melt away. There were happy tears in her eyes. "Thank you for getting me such a beautiful ring."

I let out a small sigh of relief and gave myself a mental pat on the back.

_Mission accomplished._

Zoey's smile turned alluring and flirtatious as she leaned down to kiss me. Her hands tugged on my collar as she leaned back onto the sofa cushions, taking me with her.

"Come here, you," she murmured against my lips.

_What-? Oh! Yes, please._

And for a while we forgot about everything but our joy and simply lost ourselves in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song credit to The Beatles for "I Am the Walrus."


	43. Prince Charming

  **Prince Charming**

Before I knew it, March and April had faded into May, and my twenty-fourth birthday was upon us.

Things had never been better between Zoey and I. The fears of rejection that had plagued my steps for so long had faded now that she had seen my other side, and Zoey had finally realized and understood that she didn't have to hide any negative emotions she felt after that heartfelt conversation on her kitchen floor.

There were no more secrets- only love, openness, and acceptance remained. And while I looked forward to our future, I still took the time to cherish and savor every day we spent together.

Our wedding was set for June 21st, exactly a month away. I'd already started moving some of my things into the apartment- mostly nonessential items like my books and winter clothes. Though Zoey had already given me a key, I wouldn't be fully moved in until we got back from our honeymoon.

While we were gone Sean and Alex were supposed to coordinate with Marceline on getting the rest of my stuff brought over. I'd always spent too much time in the lab to accumulate much in terms of material possessions, so there honestly wouldn't be much to take.

My only concern was that my so-called "friends" would pull some sort of tasteless prank on me while I was absent, like buying hundreds of condoms and sprinkling them all over the bed and floor the way  _nice_  people would scatter rose petals. I wanted to plead with them not to, but also felt it was better to avoid bringing up practical jokes.

_There's no need to give them any ideas._

* * *

I had just barely gotten dressed when a knock came at my door at nine in the morning. It was my birthday, so I thought a late start would be forgivable.

Apparently, Zoey and Olivia had other plans.

My two favorite people were standing in the hallway looking as fresh and pretty as spring itself and bearing two wrapped gifts. To complete that lovely picture, Zoey was holding a tray full of French toast, bacon, and eggs for three.

"Happy birthday!" they cheered.

I blinked in surprise, making them giggle.

"Th-thank you. How-?" I stuttered, stepping to the side so they could come in. "I thought you had to work today, Zoey."

"I took the day off for your birthday. And I got Olivia excused from class," she explained, setting the tray down on the little coffee table. She stood on tiptoe to give me a kiss.

"Are you surprised?" Olivia asked excitedly. "We made you breakfast!"

"'We?'" I repeated, eyeing the food warily now.

_I bet that French toast is burned on the other side._

"We had adult supervision," Zoey noted sullenly, correctly interpreting my expression.

I chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

"And we got you presents!"

"Let's eat first, Livie," I told her. "I don't want the food you made getting cold."

We all sat down on the floor around the coffee table to eat, but Olivia was still having trouble focusing through her eagerness for me to open presents. Despite that, I could tell she was giving it her best effort to behave.

"You ok, Livie?" I asked. "You look like you're having trouble."

"She kept sticking her fingers in the powdered sugar," Zoey explained, trying not to smile. "It's making her a little-"

"Hey, you were stealing sugar, too!" Olivia retorted.

_No honor among thieves, is there?_

I laughed until both of them scowled at me. I quickly ducked my head and went back to eating my breakfast, which didn't taste half-bad.

"Alright, lay it on me," I announced when we were done.

"Mine first," Olivia said, shoving a flat, square present at me.

"Did you do this all yourself?" I asked curiously, noting the clumsy wrapping job.

She nodded proudly.

"I don't even know what is," Zoey admitted.

Olivia's present turned out to be a photograph of the three of us from Easter in a homemade macaroni-covered picture frame. It was incredibly tacky and ugly, but I couldn't help the warm feeling that spread outward from my chest, almost like the Grinch's heart growing in that stupid movie Olivia made me watch at Christmas.

In sparkly letters along the frame it said,  _"For Uncle Hank."_

"Thank you, Livie," I told her sincerely, past the sudden lump in my throat.

The little girl giggled and gave me a big hug, obviously relieved that I liked her gift. "You're welcome, Uncle Hank."

She'd never called me that before.

I glanced over at Zoey, who looked like she was having just as difficult a time keeping it together as I was. Olivia's present had made us both melt. _  
_

"Auntie, your turn!"

Zoey grinned ruefully and pushed a badly wrapped gift towards me. "After that present, mine's awful."

I chuckled as I examined the wrapping paper. Zoey, despite her numerous talents, could not wrap a present properly to save her life. Using tape was just beyond her for some reason. It was something I enjoyed teasing her about, even though I thought it was adorable.

"Did you hit this with your car?"

She pouted prettily. "No _._  It's this new experimental avant-garde style of wrapping,  _old man,_ " she retorted loftily.

I laughed as I opened the wrapping paper, revealing a brand new Cartier watch. On the back there was an engraving:  _"Tempus fugit, amor reliquias."_

_Time flies, love remains._

"Zoey, I love it," I said, pulling her in for an embrace so I was cradling her upper body across my lap. "Thank you."

She smiled and cuddled in my arms for a moment, looking up at me with soft green eyes while I stroked her cheek with my thumb. She didn't have to tell me she loved me in that moment. I could  _feel_  it, flowing through her and into me.

I honestly couldn't imagine life without her anymore. Time would pass us by, but my love for Zoey would never fade- just like the engraving said. She was wrapped into the fabric of my very being, like living thread.

I pressed a quick kiss to her lips before releasing her.

Olivia was looking at us with a rather disgusted, impatient expression on her face.

"What's wrong, Livie?" I asked, suddenly feeling awkward despite my loving exchange with Zoey. I'd momentarily forgotten about our rather impressionable audience.

"Stop making goo-goo eyes at each other," Olivia complained restlessly. "Auntie, you said we were going to the aquarium."

"I said we would ask Hank what he wanted to do today," Zoey corrected, raising her eyebrows. It looked like she was fighting off a smile. " _You_  brought up the aquarium. It's his birthday, he can do what he wants."

Big, pleading brown eyes zeroed in on me.

"Uncle Hank, do you want to go to the aquarium for your birthday?"

"No," I replied.

Olivia looked devastated.

I grinned. "I want to go to Astroland  _and_  the aquarium."

Her shriek of delight nearly busted my ear drums.

* * *

It was a weekday and still the off-season, so there weren't that many people at Astroland. We rode all of the rides at least once- some of them even several times- because there weren't any long lines.

We were having so much fun... That is, until Zoey was overcome with motion sickness after our third time on the Tilt-A-Whirl in a row. She made a beeline for the nearest garbage bin as soon as we got off. I shadowed her, arriving just in time to pull her hair out of the way as she began to vomit up blue cotton candy.

"Eeeeew," Olivia said, scrunching up her nose. She took one look at the rest of her cotton candy and reached up to throw it in the trash. "Now I don't want the rest of mine."

"That's not helping," I told her with a sigh, gently rubbing my fiance's back.

Sure enough, Zoey launched into another round of dry heaves. I glared at some random passersby who stopped to watch her humiliation until they took the hint and scampered away.

"I'm so sorry," she croaked, when it seemed the attack was over.

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart," I assured her. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to melt into the ground from embarrassment."

I bit back a laugh as she unsteadily pulled herself upright. "You shouldn't," I said, smoothing back her curls. "I'm marrying you, remember? 'In sickness and in health.'"

She gave me a weak smile. "You have to be the best fiance, ever."

I grinned through the heat rising to my face. "Let me get you a ginger ale."

Olivia and I had one waiting for her as soon as she exited the bathroom, where she went to splash water on her face.

"Thank you," Zoey said, taking a grateful sip. "So... anyone else ready for the aquarium?"

* * *

It was late when I got back to the Institute, so after getting Olivia back to her dorm I immediately set about preparing for bed. As I reached for my pajamas I noticed a folded sheet of paper on top of my pillow.  _"Hank,"_  it said on the top, in Zoey's tidy handwriting- she must have placed it there that morning. I eyed the missive with a hint of dismay.

_Oh no. Is this a "Dear John" letter?_

I sank down onto the edge of my bed and began to read:

_"Dear Hank,_

_Can you believe it's been exactly a year since I wrote that first letter for my secret admirer? And what a year it's been. Back then everything seemed so hopeless, and now look at us. We're on the verge of our very own happily ever after._

_I wanted to tell you thank you for everything, and I thought a letter would be the best way to do it. You've shown me the deepest, purest love imaginable, the kind I only thought existed in fairy tales. You came into my life at just the right moment and showed me that I could find love_ and  _be myself, something I feared was impossible.  
_

_And I hope you feel that you can be yourself with me, too. I know sometimes you worry, but darling, you_ are  _the man I see you as. Your patience, your intelligence constantly leave me in awe of you. You are gentle and kind, but your quiet strength makes me want to swoon. I am desperately attracted to you in every way. Mind, body, and soul._

_I'm smiling as I write this, because you're my Prince Charming and you'll probably never believe me. But it's true, Hank. You are all of my wildest dreams come true and more. Happy birthday, my love, and many more to come. I love you with all my heart, and I can't wait to marry you._

_Love,_

_Zoey"_

I smiled down at the letter in my hands.

_Me too, Zoey. Me too._


	44. Apologies

**Apologies**

"Lookin' sharp, Beast," Sean said, clapping me on the shoulder.

"Really?" I asked nervously, fussing with my tie. "Because this feels much too tight."

"He's lying to you," Alex assured me. "You look terrible. I told you, you should've gone for the plaid tux instead."

Our wedding day had finally arrived, and I was doing my best not to panic. Everything was already in place outside in the school's gardens- the chairs, the aisle runner, the flowers and lights draped on the gazebo where Zoey and I would say our vows. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the day was cooling rapidly as sunset approached. All was according to plan.

We'd already dressed (in plain black tuxedos and ties, despite Alex's wacky fashion convictions), though there was still an hour until the ceremony started. That left nothing for my groomsmen to do but watch me fidget and pace nervously in my room while we waited.

"I don't know why I'm so nervous," I admitted, ignoring Alex's comment. "Nothing's going to go wrong- right?"

I looked at the other two hopefully, praying for reassurance.

They exchanged glances, eyebrows raised.

_Wait- never mind. Don't answer that. Please._

"I dunno..." Sean began. "The power could go out. We'd be doing the wedding in the dark!"

"The Brotherhood could show up," Alex offered.

"Or the FOH."

"And Zoey could still ditch you at the altar."

"Or Alex could lose her ring."

I collapsed onto my sofa, head in hands. "I think I'm going to be sick."

The other two chuckled.

"You guys aren't helping at all."

_I hate you both right now._

"Beast, relax," Alex said, finally taking pity on me. "It's going to be fine. You'll be married to your old ball-and-chain soon enough."

Sean snorted.

"Hey, laugh it up, Banshee. I've seen the way Maeve's been eyeing all the wedding stuff," Alex warned him. "You're next."

"Well-"

I ignored their bickering, trying to focus on breathing.

Was I having second thoughts? Not at all. I was more concerned about something happening to mar this special day. What if my voice stopped working when it was time to say my vows? What if I dropped Zoey's ring and it fell through the floorboards of the gazebo? I'd been worried about the little things, but Alex and Sean had brought up a whole new bevy of possible catastrophes to ruminate over.

A light knock sounded on the door, and Sean got up to answer it.

"Hi, Charles," he said. "And, uh-"

Sean opened the door wider, revealing Charles-

And my parents.

"M-mother? Dad?" I sputtered.

"Hello, son," my father said.

Sean whistled, looking between myself and the newcomers. "Havok, I think that's our cue to exit."

"Agreed."

They both gave my parents jaunty waves as they beat a hasty retreat. Leaving me alone with my family and Charles, who I felt would be taking on the role of Judas in this little drama.

_Charles?_

_Weddings are a time for family,_ he said. His mental voice sounded unrepentant.  _Just talk to them, Hank. Trust me. Give them a chance._

I bit back a retort, knowing that our unspoken conversation would be conspicuous if we continued it. I stood up and came closer as Charles ushered my parents into the room and excused himself politely.

_Nosy, interfering, cowardly-_

Deep down, I knew I was only upset with him because he had done what I  _should_  have. It was a curious mixture of pride (I did have a little, after all) and pusillanimity that had held me back from calling my parents myself, though I knew Zoey secretly disagreed with my decision. I was determined to not let their negative opinions destroy me ever again. I was afraid that after all this time, I was still a disappointment to them. And I didn't want to find out if that was true or not.

But as much as I embraced the family I'd chosen, the middle-aged people in front of me were still my only flesh and blood in the world. I could see myself in the tall lankiness of my father's frame, the angularity of my mother's face. It might have been unfair of me to not give them a chance to perhaps let bygones be bygones. And while Zoey would never double-cross me by going against my wishes, Charles apparently had no issue with forcing me into confronting the past head-on.

I couldn't decide if I was absolutely livid with him for being so interfering  _again_ , or grateful that he'd given me an opportunity to possibly make things right with my parents. It rather depended on how this uncomfortable conversation would go.

"How-?" I began.

"Your friend Charles called and told us you were getting married," my father explained. His eyebrows- so similar to mine- puckered in a regretful expression. "We know it's been a long time, but-"

"Oh, Henry," Mother cried out, interrupting him. She threw her arms around my neck in an uncharacteristic show of emotion and burst into tears. "We're so sorry. We never meant to make you feel- but we were afraid you'd never forgive us-"

_Since when are you a crier? Or a hugger?_

As I helplessly patted my weeping mother's back, it all became clear. By the time they'd realized the damage their emotional neglect during my formative years had caused, it was too late. My parents thought I was lost to them forever, felt that any gestures on their part to make amends would be rebuffed. Just as I thought any overtures I made would be useless, because I could never be the son they wanted.

"All those wasted years..." my father murmured as he gave me a manly hug, having finally peeled Mother off of me. "I'm so sorry, son."

"Look at the man you've become now," Mother whispered, her blue eyes still swimming with tears. Her hand came up to stroke my face. "Charles told us how well you've done for yourself, all you've achieved. And we didn't- we weren't there for you  _at all-_ "

_Nope. You weren't._

"We're proud of you, Hank," Dad said. Suddenly his eyes were over-bright.

My mother nodded earnestly. " _So_  proud," she agreed. "I'm sorry it took us so long to understand what a  _gift_  you were, Henry. But we know that, now."

"Th-thank you."

Their apologies didn't make the pain that I'd felt for all those years any less potent, any less real. My hurts were valid, and they knew that. The wounds were still there, too deep for time and acknowledgment, however heartfelt, to fully erase.

But hearing them say that- for the first time, I felt a semblance of healing, of peace. An inner serenity I'd only heretofore experienced in Zoey's presence.

_I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry._

"W-will you tell us about your fiance? Zoey, Charles said her name was?" Mother asked tentatively.

I sensed the choice before me. This was a chance to offer forgiveness and give us all the opportunity to start anew. The past could not be forgotten, but the future was a blank slate. We could fill in the story any way we wanted to.

"Actually, I'd like you to meet her," I said quietly. "After the wedding, of course."

My mother's face lit up with a cautious hopefulness.

I checked my watch- the watch Zoey had gotten me for my birthday.

"Let me show you where to sit. We'd better hurry, though. I don't want to be late to my own wedding."

I offered Mother my arm, the way she'd taught me. She linked her other arm with my father's, looking incandescently happy as I led them from my room. I took them down the stairs and outside to the arboretum I'd shown Zoey so long ago, on her first visit to the Institute.

This was where we would get married, under a filigree gazebo covered in lights and adorned with white roses along the columns. The trees that stood guard over the fifty or so guest seats were also decorated with hundreds of rose garlands that gracefully hung down in long strands. The branches met overhead, creating a ceiling dripping with flowers and twinkling lights. I thought it would look like toilet paper hanging from the trees when Moira first suggested it, but the lights entwined in the rose cascades succeeded in giving off a lovely ambiance instead.

It seemed like most of the guests had taken their seats by the time we got there, meaning we would start soon. I sat my parents down next to Charles and Moira, who greeted them warmly.

_How angry are you with me?_  Charles' voice whispered in my head.

_Oh, I'm furious,_ I replied, pursing my lips.  _But I'll get over it._

_It was for your own good, Hank. But don't worry, I won't be doing such a thing again. From now on, that's your wife's job._

I made a face at him, remembering him forcing me out of the laboratory, onto this new path I was on.

_How far I've come since then_ , I mused as I took my place.

The reverend from Billy and Marceline's church was already waiting, as were Sean and Alex.

Both of them grinned in reassurance. Alex, my best man, punched me in the shoulder. But I didn't mind- from him that was almost like an "I love you, brother. Don't choke."

Marceline, the last guest to get settled, caught my eye as she took her seat. It was the place traditionally reserved for the mother of the bride. She beamed at me, and I took courage from her expression. If she was smiling, everything was well with Zoey. Right?

I felt a tremor of almost unbearable anticipation, but managed to nervously return her smile.

The sun had finally set on this longest day of the year, leaving us in the balmy embrace of an effulgent fairy forest. Beyond the illuminated tree canopy- in the direction from which my bride would come- I could see the flickering fluorescence of fireflies in the darkness. I grinned as I thought of my Pyralis surrounded by her own kind as she made her way over to walk down the aisle.

_I hope she gets here soon. I'm about to pass out from nerves._

Suddenly the first strains of the wedding march began to play. I stood up a little straighter, taking a deep, steadying breath.

It was time to marry the woman of my dreams.


	45. I Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who wants a more solid visual of what Zoey's dress looks like, look up Candice Accola's wedding dress. That's pretty much it, but I added sleeves to make it more era-appropriate. :-)
> 
> Zoey's quotation is from Act 2, Scene 1 of A Midsummer Night's Dream, Titania to Oberon.

**I Do**

First came Maeve and then Zoey's friend Gwen, both wearing dark blue dresses and carrying bouquets of white roses and violets. It felt like they walked intolerably slow down the aisle. By the time Olivia came into view and began scattering flower petals I could barely stand still.

She smiled happily at me as she went to take her place next to Marceline. I gave her a nervous little wave in reply.

Olivia's parents sat in the row behind her, looking rather sullen about the festivities. It had been tempting to pretend the Greys' invitation had gotten lost in the mail, but Zoey's sense of family loyalty won out in the end. Just barely.

On cue, everyone stood in anticipation of the bride's arrival-

And then there she was, and I forgot to breathe.

_Oh my stars and garters._

If you asked me to describe Zoey's dress in that moment, I wouldn't have been able to. My attention was too riveted on her exquisite face to pay attention to anything else. I just knew that my bride was the most beautiful woman on the planet and I could  _not stop smiling_.

Her gorgeous emerald eyes sought me out as she took her first steps down the aisle, hanging on Billy's arm. A dazzling smile came to her perfect lips, a shy blush blooming on her cheeks as her gaze held mine. Neither of us could look away from each other. Zoey had forgone her usual cherry red lipstick shade for a more natural pink hue, keeping the rest of her makeup just as soft. Her natural beauty shown through, as fresh as a rose.

She was beyond the cliche "bridal glow" you read about so often in stories. With her firelight curls flowing down around her shoulders and the facets dancing from the twinkling canopy overhead, Zoey was radiant, incandescent, resplendent- a fire fairy come to walk among mortals, just for a night.

And she was  _mine._

"Who gives this woman in marriage?" the reverend asked, once they reached the top of the aisle.

It only seemed to take them forever to get there.

"I do," Billy replied.

I tore my gaze from Zoey to spare her godfather a glance when she leaned in to kiss his cheek. His tears flowed freely as he took Zoey's hand and placed it in mine.

It was only once she was touching me that I finally remembered how to breathe.

"Hi," I whispered, after Zoey passed her bouquet- blue primroses and violets, with a few white roses scattered in- to Gwen and turned back to me.

Her smile got even wider, if that was possible. Her eyes already shone with happy tears. "Hi."

Our guests re-took their seats, and the reverend began to speak. "Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Henry Philip McCoy and Zoey Rose Dubois in matrimony, commended..."

I tuned him out, too busy looking at Zoey to pay attention. And with such a beauty to behold, who could blame me?

Her A-line dress was lace, with a sweetheart neckline and lace sleeves down to her elbows. It was tea-length in the front, revealing her simple white high-heeled pumps, but with a chapel-length train. The bodice had a slightly dropped waist that highlighted her tiny hourglass figure. Her hair was half-up, held back from her face with silver combs set with sapphires- a gift from Charles and Moira. The waltz-length veil she wore was trimmed in a thin lace border.

She was ethereally lovely, an angel here on earth. And yet she was willingly tying her life to mine. I had no idea what I'd done to earn such a gift, but I knew I would spend the rest of my days trying to prove myself worthy of her, to deserve the complete love and trust she freely gave to me.

When it was time to say the vows, my voice did not falter. In that moment we had no audience, and all thoughts of stage-fright faded away. I was just Hank McCoy, making an eternal promise to the woman who had had my heart from the second I first saw her.

"I, Henry, take you, Zoey, to be my wife. All that I am and all that I have, I offer to you in love and in joy," I told Zoey, looking straight into her eyes. "From this day forward I will love you and comfort you, hold you close, support you in your goals, and remain faithful to you all the days of our lives."

Zoey's voice was also strong and clear as she recited her own pledge, despite the rosy blush on her cheeks. Listening to her, I thought my heart would swell to bursting with emotion right out of my chest.

Despite my earlier fears, Alex didn't forget Zoey's ring and I didn't drop it. It slipped onto her finger perfectly, and then it was her turn.

"I, Zoey, give you, Henry, this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you," she told me, while I looked on in awe.

The tears in her eyes were very much in danger of overflowing, but they stubbornly refused to fall as the reverend finished his speech.

"By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife," he proclaimed. "You may kiss the bride."

The euphoria I felt was surely reflected in Zoey's expression as I leaned down and tenderly pressed my lips to hers. I poured all of my joy and adoration into the kiss, and she matched my elation with her own.

"I love you," I murmured, gently pressing my forehead against hers. Shimmering green eyes filled my vision, making me feel both serene and exhilarated all at once.

"I love you," Zoey replied. She stole another kiss.

The reverend pointedly coughed, making both of us laugh as we pulled apart slightly. "I present to you Doctors Henry and Zoey McCoy," he announced, to the cheers of our guests.

_We did it,_  I thought dreamily. My brain- and my heart- were somewhere up in the stratosphere.  _Thank heavens I didn't mess up_ _._

* * *

Our reception took place in Moira's favorite part of the arboretum, an area she'd modeled after an English garden. The space was illuminated by antique lanterns hanging from the trees and set on the little tables scattered about the clearing. The flowers and topiary were perfect surroundings without any sort of embellishments needed to mar the natural beauty of the place. It felt like we'd just stepped into Titania's bower _._

The thought made me chuckle out loud as we took our seats.

"What is it?" Zoey asked curiously.

I glanced down at her, my beautiful fire sprite, and the sensation that I'd fallen into a fairy story got even stronger. "I feel like we just walked onto the production set of  _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ ," I explained, gesturing to the scenery.

Zoey laughed, a mischievous gleam coming to her eyes as she leaned in closer to whisper to me. If anything, her impish expression solidified her resemblance to some sort of ethereal fay creature in my mind. Titania in the flesh, as it were.

_"Then I must by thy lady,"_  she said softly, seductively. Her teeth grazed my ear.

It felt like I missed a step going downstairs as her words sunk in. Suddenly I wanted to skip the reception and go directly to our honeymoon.

_I'll show you, my lady..._

But I was good and patiently sat through the party in our honor, despite my eagerness to get away. A light dinner was served, unavoidably embarrassing speeches were made ( _thank you so much, Alex and Sean_ ), and I acquitted myself well during the obligatory first dance, feeling beyond grateful that Moira had taken the time to teach me the steps.

I hadn't really danced since that night I'd hung from the ceiling at the CIA, so long ago. But once there were other people on the dance floor I let go of my dignity just a little and continued to twirl Zoey around rather than re-taking my seat. I simply enjoyed the way she was smiling too much to stop.

Eventually I caught sight of my parents speaking to Billy and Marceline and remembered my promise to introduce Zoey to them.

"My parents are here," I murmured during another slow dance.

Zoey was so surprised that she stopped moving. She pulled back so she could see my face. "How-?"

"Charles," I explained. "Do you want to meet them?"

She gave me wry smile. "Nothing says a party like estranged in-laws."

"Indeed," I agreed, thinking of the Grey's. They were currently surveying the gift table with sour expressions on their faces.

Zoey slipped her arm through mine, and together we went over to where my parents were still standing with Billy and Marceline.

"Mother, Dad," I said after excusing myself for interrupting. "This is my wife, Zoey."

_My wife, yes. Isn't she wonderful?_

"It's nice to meet you," Zoey said politely, offering her hand.

Dad returned the gesture warmly, but my mother surprised us all by pulling Zoey in for an enthusiastic hug.

"Aren't you just  _perfect_?" Mother gushed. "So beautiful, and Mr. Rivers here was just telling us you've a doctorate in genetics. I couldn't think of a better match for Henry!"

"Um... thank you?" Zoey replied, looking at me with such evident confusion it was hard not to laugh. My mother's behavior certainly didn't match how I'd described her. I was still getting used to it, myself.

After a while Zoey got pulled into a dance with Billy, and then another with my father while I danced with Mother, and then Marceline. Olivia pleaded with me until I gave in and picked her up for a few songs, too.

But though I noticed other dancing couples- Charles, with a giddily laughing Moira in his lap, was spinning in circles, Maeve and Sean were on the verge of getting downright indecent on the dance floor, and Alex was chatting up Gwen- I couldn't bring myself to take my eyes off Zoey for long. She was so radiant and beautiful, it would be like asking a moth to look away from a candle flame.

Soon it was time for the bouquet toss.

"Is it just me, or do they look overly-competitive?" I muttered to Sean and Alex while the single ladies gathered in the middle of the dance floor. Some elbows were getting thrown already and Zoey wasn't even in place yet.

"It's definitely not just you," Sean replied, looking baffled. "Holy shit."

A scuffle broke out after the bouquet landed, but Maeve came up victorious. She cast a rather meaningful look at Sean.

"Told you so," Alex said, punching him in the arm.

And then, unable to help myself, I sling-shotted Zoey's garter right into Sean's face.

But only after making my new wife blush furiously as I knelt before her, our gazes locked, and sensuously trailed my hands up her leg, under her dress to her thigh. She stopped breathing and her eyes burned into mine, smoldering with promise in response to my touch.

_Seriously. Let's cut the stupid cake and get out of here._


	46. All That We Are

**All That We Are**

Finally, we cut the cake- a cream-filled, spongey piece of heaven- and lovingly fed each other, as per tradition.

I nearly had a stroke when Zoey nibbled on my finger as I offered her the first bite, a wicked grin on her face.

It felt like every move she made, every glance she threw my way tonight was meant as a slow seduction. Both my feral counterpart and myself were dying from impatience, though it would be hours until the impulses could be acted upon.

I'd had enough temptation to last me a lifetime, especially since I'd presented Beast to Zoey. Before, I knew to pull away when I felt my feral half start to surface, but ever since then it'd been harder to know when to stop. Despite that uncertainty, it was a relief not to hold Beast back in my head anymore, and a blessing that Zoey kept kissing me whether I was furry or not. I wanted her so badly it was a physical ache.

And tonight... the glow in her eyes when she looked at me was a promise. A promise of things to come.

* * *

After cake my bride was whisked away to change into her going-away dress. My own outfit switch took much less effort, leaving me with plenty of time to help Sean and Alex finish loading up the car.

Sean and Gwen had been fully prepared to decorate it with the classic shoes, streamers, and "Just Married" sign, but Alex (and Zoey, though she was kinder about it) harshly vetoed that idea. They both thought it would be a desecration to violate a Bentley T1 in such a fashion, for which I was grateful.

"Where is it that you're going again?" Sean asked curiously.

"Paris," I replied. "Our hotel is right in the Golden Triangle, so we'll be close to the Louvre and the Champs-"

"Oh, Jesus. Now I  _know_ you're still a virgin," Alex cut in sardonically, shaking his head in disapproval. "Talking about visiting museums on your honeymoon? Just you wait, Beast."

The heat in my ears had just begun to fade when Zoey appeared, surrounded by well-wishers. After we said our thank you's and good-byes I helped her into the car, and off we went to JFK airport.

"Hi," Zoey said brightly, after I got into the driver's seat.

I grinned as I started the car. "Hi," I replied. "Ready?"

She nodded happily and leaned in to kiss me. "Off we go, into the sunset," she announced.

_Never mind that it's two o'clock in the morning. But I get the point._

* * *

The flight from JFK took seven hours. Thankfully the first class seats were relatively comfortable on the plane, so it was easy to drift off to sleep. I found the sound of Zoey's soft snores coming from beside me to be rather soothing, strangely enough.

_That's probably a good thing, considering I'm going to be sleeping next to her for the rest of my life._

The thought filled me with a sublime, transcendent joy.

It was five pm local time when we landed at Orly Airport, and I got more and more nervous as the cab we took got closer to La Tremoille, our hotel.

I so badly wanted to do this right for Zoey. What if I messed up and she never wanted to try again? What if making love with a beast was just a step too far for her? Would she leave me?

Old insecurities I had _thought_  were dead and buried came bubbling back up to the surface.

The taxi driver gave us a rather avuncular look as I helped Zoey out of the car, an expression mirrored by the clerk who checked us in at the hotel. It felt like everyone around us just  _knew_  what we were about to do and it made my apprehension even worse. I could tell Zoey was getting nervous, too.

_We might as well wear big signs on our heads._ _Yeah, we're newlyweds. What are_ you  _looking at?_

When we got to our room door I scooped Zoey up and carried her, bridal-style (literally), over the threshold. Her giggles actually made me feel less jittery for a moment. We loved each other so much, surely there was no reason to worry...

As much as I tried to convince myself, the nerves all came rushing back after I set her down and tipped the bellhop who helped us with our luggage. He gave us a rather knowing grin on his way out the door-

Leaving us alone.

For a moment we just stared at each other, each of us wondering who would make the first move.

Zoey's face turned as scarlet as her hair. "I-I need to brush my teeth," she muttered.

She snatched up one of the bags and ran for the suite's bathroom, practically slamming the door shut behind her.

_Um... That's not exactly how I expected that to go._

I stood there awkwardly, trying not to feel too wounded or disappointed.

Maybe Zoey had a point? I decided teeth brushing was a good idea, considering how fuzzy my mouth felt after breathing stale recycled airplane air for seven hours. Clearly the bathroom was off-limits right now, so I used the sink in the little kitchenette and splashed water on my face.

And then I sat down on the edge of the bed to wait.

I sat there fidgeting for what felt like an eternity, listening to the sink and bathtub run repeatedly. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what she was doing in there.

Finally, the bathroom door cracked open and Zoey peeked her head out.

Her cheeks flushed when she saw me sitting on the bed. I heard her take a deep breath before she stepped out, wearing a  _very_ short silk robe.

I immediately sat up straighter, my expression probably akin to someone who'd just been smacked in the head with a brick. "H-hi."

"Hi," Zoey replied, looking down shyly.

She tentatively stepped closer, crossing the distance between us until she was right in front of me. I couldn't take my eyes off of her- she was so utterly bewitching, if it weren't for the rings on her finger I wouldn't believe that such a lovely creature could be meant for me.

Zoey bit her lip, like she was gathering her courage, and slipped the robe off. It puddled at her feet, leaving her completely bare save for a dainty, sheer lace lingerie set.

I froze.

In fact, I completely stopped breathing while I greedily drank her in. For how long had I imagined seeing every inch of her flawless beauty, making her mine in every way possible? She was better than all of my wildest daydreams combined.

I ached to reach out and touch her- to pull Zoey to my chest and run my fingers down her back, to touch the womanly curves I was sure felt like satin with my bare hands. My blood stirred at the thought.

But my arms had decided to ignore instructions at that moment, leaving me paralyzed.

"What do you think?" she prompted when I didn't move. She sounded anxious, like she'd been hoping for a more...  _enthusiastic_  reaction.

_Too bad her husband turns into a complete moron at the sight of a half-naked woman._

"Y-you are  _so_  beautiful," I croaked, looking her in the eyes.

Zoey's smile was relieved as she demurely cast her gaze down. Her cheeks turned pink again. "So are you," she murmured.

Her hands were trembling as she reached out and took my glasses off for me, setting them who-knows-where. I couldn't bring myself to look away from her. Then she started undoing the buttons on my shirt with shaking fingers.

How ironic that Zoey could face down a hostile boardroom full of men twice her age without blinking, but in a situation like this she was just as afraid of messing up as I was. Business was all about money and livelihood, though. This was a matter of the heart- leaving yourself completely vulnerable to someone else and trusting them not to hurt you, even when you offer them everything you have to give.

That was the way Zoey trusted me.

_Come on. Get it together, McCoy._

I could practically  _feel_  Beast kicking me in the limbic system.

My brain finally decided to shift into gear at that moment. I slipped one hand around her waist, pulling her closer, and the other held her head as I kissed her deeply, with unbridled fervor. The little moan she made when I started exploring her mouth sent all of my blood flooding south so fast I felt a little light-headed.

Zoey pushed my shirt off of my shoulders and straddled my lap- wanting to be closer, always closer. I held her as tightly as I dared without hurting her.

Feeling her that way, skin on skin... I couldn't touch her enough. I hungered for it like a starving man, needed Zoey like air.

The desires that used to frighten me with their intensity came rushing to the forefront of my mind as we kissed, but I didn't try to tamp them down. They didn't scare me anymore. I  _wanted_  to feel this passionate, this rapturous. This  _alive_.

I easily picked Zoey up and gently laid her down on the bed. She scrambled under the covers while I clumsily pulled off my shoes and pants, almost face-planting in the process. She managed to stifle her laughter, bless her, and held her arms out for me in an irresistible invitation.

Zoey buried her nails in my hair and pressed her body tightly against mine. It felt like we were a lock and key, made for each other. Our breathing was ragged, our hearts pounding in a matching tattoo in our chests as we kissed- and touched- one another everywhere we could reach. My vision was fuzzy around the edges, like I was in some sort of cinematic dream sequence. I was  _very_ close to losing it.

"I want you, so much," Zoey murmured, biting my ear. "I love you." _  
_

Her breathless voice, those words, were what finally sent me off the edge of self-control, the change into Beast sweeping over me like a wildfire through dry brush. I shivered from the sensation of bursting out of my own skin.

For a moment I hovered over her, warring with my own instincts to dive in for more and knowing that we may have already reached a breaking point in our hours-old marriage. This was  _the_  ultimate test of Zoey's love, her acceptance of my feral side. I hadn't realized it until just then.

She'd given me her heart, but could she still give me her body, let me love her completely, when I was Beast? It was the only way I could do this with her.

Zoey opened her eyes, meeting my pleading gaze.

She had the power to shatter me into a thousand wretched pieces. A shudder, a flinch, some other sign of hesitation- that's all it would take at this pivotal moment.

_I trust you completely. Please don't break my heart._

My wife, my love, gave me a soft, reassuring smile and pulled me in for a tender kiss.

"Hank," she whispered. "Please, make love to me?"


	47. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sexy times references in today's chapter, but nothing too risque.

**The Morning After**

It was almost noon when I woke up, pale and human-looking again, the next day. It was the first day of the rest of my life.

Logically, I knew I was in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, and laying in this hotel room all day was a complete waste. But I still couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. I was just too...

Content? No, that wasn't the word. It didn't account for the level of bliss I was experiencing at the moment, this feeling of complete acceptance and love. Happy, jubilant, exultant...

_Someone needs to come up with a word specifically to describe the morning after a wedding night._

A ridiculous grin came to my face as the memories from last night ran through my head.

I thought of the way Zoey had giggled and said, "I'm sorry, but that was  _hot_ ," when I accidentally tore her pretty lace bra and panties set with my claws in my enthusiasm to get them off of her. How incredible it felt to join with her completely, like we'd merged into one entity. Hearing her cry out my name like I was the most important person in the entire universe to her. The look on her face when she came apart in my arms, knowing that I'd given Zoey as much pleasure as I took from her.

All of it was burned into my psyche for eternity, for which I was thankful. I never wanted to forget a second of what had transpired between us, as we explored this new way to love together.

After her whispered request I'd completely let go and capitulated to my instincts, because it seemed like  _thinking_  always got me in trouble. Being able to stop resisting, finally giving in to the burning desire I had for her was as easy as breathing. Like dropping a heavy burden comprised of self-consciousness and fears of rejection, leaving me free to love Zoey in all the ways I'd dreamed of, with everything I had to give.

Letting go of my self-control wasn't a surrender. It was a _victory_ , allowing me to stop over-analyzing  _every little thing_  and just  _feel_  what we needed from each other, how I could please her. For once in my life I was actually thankful for my feral half, because I'd been able to let go and do all the things I had last night without feeling awkward about anything.

_It was perfect in all the ways that mattered. And now... I need to pee._

But Zoey was still asleep, cuddled up against my side and using my shoulder as a pillow. We were both still tangled up in the musky sheets and naked from last night.

Her perfect lips were slightly parted as she snored away, her eyelashes so long they brushed against her cheeks. I could count every one of the faint freckles dusted across her nose and cheekbones, like constellations in the night sky.

I couldn't bear to move and possibly wake her when she seemed so peaceful. Zoey looked like an angel in repose.

_An angel with sex hair,_ I privately amended, looking at her mussed curls with amusement.  _She's going to freak out._

I tried to smooth her hair with my free hand, but to no avail. Her locks just refused to behave, and nature's call was getting louder and louder by the second. I'd have to risk waking her.

Carefully- so carefully- I wriggled out from Zoey's hold and settled her back down on a pillow. She didn't react at all to being moved.

_Interesting. Either I've got super stealth or she sleeps like the dead. Maybe it's a bit of both?_

With a shrug- the scratches she'd managed to leave on my back through the fur stung dully from the motion- I went to do my business in the bathroom, laughing silently at the ridiculous amount of hair and skincare products spread across the counter. I'd had no idea it took so much work to be a girl.

Zoey finally woke up perhaps five minutes after I'd slid back into bed and pulled her into my arms again. Her snoring cut off and she blinked slowly, finally opening her eyes to the day. A gorgeous, hazy smile lit up her face when she saw me laying there next to her. My stomach flip-flopped at the sight.

"'Morning," she said sleepily.

"Good morning," I murmured.

I had a fleeting thought of "morning breath" but quickly dismissed it as I leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. Zoey's smile was even brighter when I pulled away.

_I'm going to wake up to this every day now_ , I thought happily.

"What time is it?" she asked, stretching out a little. Her naked body pressed even closer against mine wreaked all sorts of havoc on my sanity.

"Um... A-around noon," I replied, barely coherent.

Zoey's eyebrows rose. "Wow. I don't think I've ever slept in this long."

"I think it's forgivable," I noted dryly. "Jet lag and all. Plus, we stayed up late."

Our eyes met, smiles coming unbidden to our faces. Her cheeks turned a little pink, and I could feel my own face heat up in response as our thoughts immediately strayed to  _why_  we were up so late.

I think the hilarity of our mutual shyness struck us both at the moment, because both of us erupted into laughter- giddy, almost hysterical guffaws that made our sides hurt and tears come out of Zoey's eyes.

After everything we'd done together last night, there really wasn't a reason to be modest anymore.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead as we came down from our giggling fit, trying to regain our composure.

"Was there anything you wanted to do today?" I finally managed to ask. "Sight-seeing, or...?

_Spending all day in bed with me? Take option two- please?_

Zoey bit her lip, her eyes taking on a wicked gleam that again brought the comparison to a fire fairy to my mind. Everything in me immediately stood at attention in anticipation.

She suddenly sat up and swung one leg over my hips so she was straddling me, her curls falling wildly around her face. Zoey on top of me like that had to be the sexiest sight I'd ever seen.

"I have a few ideas," she replied coyly.

Amazingly, a fresh blush bloomed across her cheeks as she leaned down to lay a trail of hot kisses on my neck, her hands brushing along my chest, traveling lower, lower-

I decided right then that I didn't mind if she spent the rest of our marriage flushing like that. At least I'd always know when she was thinking of something naughty.

* * *

We finally set foot out of our hotel room for the first time on the third day of our honeymoon, when the maids basically kicked us out so they could at least vacuum and change our sheets. We'd been ordering off the room service menu since we got there, neither of us willing to fully dress and leave the room long enough to eat.

But once we were out and about, it was as if we both remembered that we were complete nerds at heart and had a city full of history at our fingertips. The Louvre, the Champs-Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe, Tuileries Gardens, Notre Dame, the Latin Quarter, the Eiffel Tower, and the Museum of French History... We saw all of it and more over the next two weeks.

Still- Zoey only needed to give me a  _look_ , her eyes smoldering with emerald flames, and back we'd go running to the hotel room. She'd bought all sorts of frilly lingerie for this trip and half of it didn't survive, to my dismay. It was something I needed to work on, but thankfully Zoey seemed to have  _no_  problem allowing me to practice undressing her. Over and over again.

One day we rented a car and drove to the town where Zoey's mother had grown up, where her parents met. Saint-Evroult-Notre-Dame-du-Bois was a tiny commune mainly known for the ruins of a Benedictine abbey within its bounds and not much else.

Zoey walked around with a pensive look on her face that made me wonder what exactly she was looking for. Was she hoping to feel her parents' presence here somehow, after over twenty years?

"Zoey...?"

She looked up at me with a wistful smile, already anticipating the question on my mind. "I didn't expect to feel anything magical here," she explained. "I just wanted to see it once, to know what it looked like with my own eyes."

Zoey stood on tiptoe to give me a kiss.

"Thank you for coming with me, Hank."

* * *

Eventually it was time to face real life again, though I didn't really mind all that much. As strange as it sounded, I was eager to see what normalcy would be like for us. The  _"after"_  of the  _"happily ever after,"_ so to speak.

Zoey's-  _our_ \- apartment was quiet and tidy when we got back to New York. Lucie, Charlie and Sydney surrounded us as soon as I carried Zoey over the threshold to our home, purring so hard that their bodies were vibrating with happiness.

I did a quick reconnaissance sweep while Zoey was busy greeting the cats, trying to find anything out of place. I was still worried that Alex and Sean had done something while we were gone...

There was a still-warm casserole on the counter with a note from Marceline, but I didn't immediately find anything else.

Not until later that night before bed, when I opened up the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to put my toothbrush away and was hit in the face by the deluge of condoms that fell out. A note was taped to the back of the cabinet door that simply said,  _"You're welcome. Go get her, Beast!"_

_Some things,_ I decided, _n_ _ever change._


	48. Cooking Lessons

**Cooking Lessons**

"Zoey, I'm home," I called out as I walked through the door of our apartment one day, carrying the bouquet of flowers I'd cut from Moira's greenhouse.

"Hello," Zoey replied from somewhere within the apartment. "Hold on one second!"

I heard a crash come from the kitchen, followed by a muttered expletive.

_Uh oh._

"You ok?"

"I'm  _awesome_ ," she answered sourly.

The light scent of the primroses in my hand couldn't mask the stench coming from the slight cloud of smoke in the air. I took a hesitant sniff as I slipped off my shoes and socks one-handed. My feet immediately stretched out in relief.

_Ah, freedom._

"I smell something burning. Are you trying to cook again?"

A disgruntled huff of annoyance- and guilt- drifted to me from the kitchen.

I laughed as I made my way further into the apartment. No other reply seemed to be forthcoming, probably from sheer embarrassment.

Sure enough, Zoey was standing in front of the messy stove, looking utterly defeated and quite sheepish. A pan of... I-couldn't-even-tell-what was smoking in the sink.

Yup. My wife's horrible cooking skills had struck again.

I had to fight back an exasperated sigh because I knew it would be counter-productive in this situation. How could you tell the person you love to stop trying to do something they were so obviously bad at,  _without_  sounding like you had no faith in them ever getting better? I didn't want to imply to Zoey that there was no hope for her, but... Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

"Hello, my love," I said blithely. I held out the flowers. "These are for you."

It instantly brightened her mood. Zoey's face lit up like a Christmas tree as she came over and buried her face in the blooms. I couldn't blame her for doing so- actually, I was almost tempted to snatch the flowers back so I could block out the burning smell in the air that was stinging my nose.

"Thank you," she told me, with a thorough kiss that left me a little dazed. "What's the occasion?"

I shrugged. "Just because."

_So you would smile and kiss me like that. Is my timing awesome or what?_

"What's the occasion for all of this?" I asked, gesturing to the disaster area that used to be our kitchen.

I'd basically taken over cooking detail in the four months since we got married. Zoey's culinary skills just seemed to get worse and worse the more I tried to teach her, so it was just-

_Less stressful. Easier. Less likely to cause property damage._

-If I cooked. Obviously, Zoey wasn't stupid, so it was hard to understand why she was having such a hard time learning. My only guesses were a lack of motivation (making sweets was still no issue for her, but everything else was a disaster), or a very poor teacher (that would be me). Or maybe it was a combination of both.

She shrugged in answer to my question, putting her bouquet in a vase on the bar area. "I got home before you and thought I would try to make you dinner," she explained mournfully. "It... didn't go so well."

"I can see that."

Zoey pouted.

I sighed and pulled her in for a hug. Thankfully, she snuggled into the embrace without protest. "It's ok, sweetheart. Thank you for trying."

She let out a heavy exhale. "I hate doing the dishes all the time," she blurted out.

That was the deal- whoever didn't cook, had to do dishes and clean the kitchen. So naturally, Zoey got stuck doing that almost all the time. She also did laundry and had to vacuum and dust basically every day because between three cats, her long curls, and my fur there was a lot of hair rolling around the apartment.

And before anyone complains about inequality, I had to clean the bathrooms and scoop up litter boxes. Everything besides the kitchen chores had been divided up when we picked assignments out of a hat. We thought it was fair since we both worked full time and neither of us wanted to stick the other with all the housework.

My lovely wife had also requested that I take care of general handyman issues around the building, of which she was the landlord. She asked me to do this right before-  _ahem-_ going to bed with me, while wearing absolutely  _nothing._

_I think I have a valid defense in court for getting out of this. She was_ naked _. I was under the influence, Your Honor. Any deals I made then were null and void._

Considering the attitudes of the other tenants, handyman work was a rather thankless task. Last month old Ms. Peterson, the spinster and  _true_  crazy cat lady who lived downstairs, needed someone to rewire the circuit breaker for her apartment. She took the opportunity while I was there to innocently ask what exactly it was that Zoey and I were doing that caused all the banging and growling noises overhead at night.

I had wanted to die, right then and there. Since then I hadn't been able to look that woman in the face whenever I happened to pass her on the stairs.

"Dish duty? Is that what this is really about?" I teased now. "I thought you just wanted to make me dinner? Now I'm a little wounded."

Zoey rolled her eyes, and for a moment I thought she was going to laugh. But instead she sighed and confessed, "I hate being bad at stuff."

"I know."

Knowing her so well, I could imagine how much it irked her to have such a basic skill elude her understanding. It hurt her pride unbearably.

_At least,_ I thought to myself, s _he's comfortable sharing this sort of thing with me now._

"What I don't understand is how you've gotten the hang of baking, but can't seem to do anything else," I noted, finally voicing my confusion aloud.

Zoey frowned up at me. "You explained baking like organic chemistry. Remember what you said about baking soda versus baking powder? Soda needs an acid to react and make the dough spread. Powder needs a liquid to release gas and-"

And then it clicked. I really  _had_  been teaching her incorrectly, showing Zoey all of these recipes and hoping she would grasp everything that way. I should've known better than that. There was a  _much_  easier way to go about this.

With science!

"Come with me, darling," I told her excitedly, pulling her towards the front door.

"What-?"

"We need more space, so we're going to the Institute and I'm going to teach you how to cook. It's  _all_  organic chemistry, Zoey. You'll see," I explained. I caught a glimpse of her expression and laughed. "Don't worry, I'll do the dishes when we get home."

* * *

Within half an hour we were settled in the huge kitchen at Xavier's. I had a portable white board in hand, ready to draw chemical structures, and we'd covered the counters in all sorts of food- potatoes and other various vegetables, meats, and a variety of seasonings.

"Dr. McCoy, what on earth have you done to my kitchen?" Mrs. Taylor, the school cook, cried out when she came back from serving dinner and saw what a mess we'd made. She looked like she was on the verge of an apoplectic fit.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We'll clean up when we're done," I hurriedly assured her, while Zoey giggled.

Mrs. Taylor seemed rather disbelieving, but she gave me one more dirty look and left us to it.

"Ok, Zoey," I said, picking up a marker. I began to sketch out a chain of glucose molecules. "Tell me about starch."

Zoey rattled off a bunch of factoids about starch until she got to the most important one- how starch becomes soluble in water when heated.

"Knowing that, if I show you these two potatoes," I told her, pushing the vegetables forward. "And told you that the red potato is low in starch, and the Russet is high, which would you use for mashed potatoes, and which would you put in with a pot roast?"

Zoey blinked. And then it was like a light bulb went off in her head, and I knew in that moment that this was going to work. I'd finally found the way to teach her.

A dazzling smile crossed her face, leaving me breathless. "The Russet is for mashed potatoes. The starch gets too squishy to hold its shape."

"Exactly," I agreed, rewarding her with a kiss.

And we went on from there, getting down into the finite chemical reactions that occurred when cooking something. Breaking it down to the molecular level helped Zoey visualize what exactly was going on, what she needed to look for. Both of us were practically giddy that she was understanding it now.

We were in the middle of a steady dialogue of information exchange when I brought up barbecuing.

"And so this-" I explained, drawing out the chemical reaction while Zoey looked on. "Is what happens when the meat gets charred."

She frowned. "That's a heterocyclic amine."

I glanced at her, feeling confused. "Yes?"

"It's a really unstable molecule," Zoey pressed. "I wonder what kind of effects it has on the human body when ingested? I mean, oxygen free radicals react and cause all sort of issues like cell injury and DNA damage. What would HCAs do?"

_You are_ so  _sexy when you talk nerdy to me._

The scientist in me sat up straighter, curiosity already sparking in my brain. An experimental protocol began to dance around the edges of my mind, unbidden. How easily distracted I was by the possibility of scientific discovery.

_Forget cooking lessons. It's experiment time._

"Want to go find out?" I asked her eagerly.

Zoey looked at me like I was offering her the keys to a candy store. She was just as excited about new scientific research as I was.

She was  _everything_  to me, my match in every way. If there was such a thing as soul mates, she was mine.

"Let's go!" she cheered.


	49. Jealousy

**Jealousy**

"Hank?"

I blinked away the sleep that had begun to steal over me. "Yes, my love?"

We were laying in bed together several months later- almost a year since we wed. Zoey's head was on my chest, one of her legs tangled in mine as she pressed tightly against my side. She had to cuddle with me like that, or else Sydney's chubby self would try to inveigle his way in between us like some sort of feline chastity belt.

For now he was snuggled up against Zoey's other side, jealously guarding her. I knew cats didn't really have facial expressions, but he always seemed  _angry_  when he looked at me nowadays. Sydney used to sleep in Zoey's arms like a teddy bear at night, and now he hated me for usurping his position.

Lucie and Charlie had been more enthusiastic and accepting of me permanently moving into their territory. Lucie liked to sleep on my pillow, right next to my head, and Charlie slept at my feet. I think he liked that I could scratch behind his ears with my finger-toes- I had four limbs for petting, instead of just two.

_That's right, cat. I am your god._

Zoey's voice made me focus back on the present.

"I think we should buy you a new car."

"A new car?" I asked blankly. "What's wrong with the one I have?"

"Well..." she began hesitantly. "It's not really  _your_  car, is it? It sorta became yours by default."

She had a point there. The Bentley was actually Charles' car- I'd just been driving it for so long that it basically became mine. Now that I no longer lived at the Institute I only ever really drove it to and from work. Otherwise I drove us around in Zoey's Aston Martin.

Getting her to allow me do  _that_  had been a herculean effort in itself.

It caused the closest thing to an argument that we'd had since that night when I'd refused to show Zoey the Beast. We didn't really have "fights" the way other couples seemed to have- they were more mild disagreements than anything else. Both of us were much too easygoing and logical to devolve into name-calling or grudge-holding.

But Zoey's car, unbeknownst to me, had been a touchy subject.

* * *

The Bentley was in the shop for a tune up when she suggested that we go into the City for dinner one night, not long after we got home from the honeymoon.

"Sure," I agreed. "I'll drive, if you'd like."

Zoey's daily commute was much longer than mine, so I honestly thought I was doing her a favor by offering a break from driving.

She frowned and clutched at her keys, immediately making me confused.

"What? You don't want me to drive your car?"

I'd meant it as a joke, but Zoey's face only became more cloudy. I immediately felt wounded.

"Why not?"

"Because it's  _my_  car," she muttered mulishly. "You don't appreciate that car the way I do."

On one hand, I could see her point- to me, the only prerequisites for an automobile were four wheels and a working engine. The attributes Zoey drooled over were inconsequential to me.

But on the other...

"I'll give you that, but don't you trust me? I mean, my reflexes are faster than yours, if you're worried about me crashing the Aston Martin," I reasoned.

"Of course I trust you," Zoey replied. "It's just..."

She trailed off, shrugging unhelpfully.

I felt a spark of irritation over her reticence. Weren't married couples supposed to talk these issues out? I had thought we were past evasiveness.

"Zoey... I know I make less money than you, but  _you_  were the one who said we weren't going to delineate between our salaries and possessions," I told her, trying (and failing) to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "No 'yours, mine, and ours,' remember?"

Now she looked guilty- like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"That's not fair," she said, her voice taking on a petulant tone.

"How is it not fair?"

A pause.

"My dad gave me that car," Zoey explained quietly.

I exhaled heavily.

_Talk about unfair. She pulled out the "dead father" card._

"Never mind then," I conceded stiffly, shaking my head. I couldn't argue with a sentimental attachment like that. "I understand."

"Hank-"

"Sweetheart, it's fine."

Zoey sighed. "No, it isn't. You're right- we're a team now. What's mine is yours, too. Here," she said, offering me the keys. It still looked like someone was trying to pull her teeth out, despite her acquiescence. "But if you hurt my- I mean,  _our_  baby, I'll-"

"Put my clothes out on the curb and set them on fire?" I joked. "Yes, I know."

"I was  _going_  to say that I'd feel completely justified in buying the new DBS that's coming out, but that works too," she replied, only half-teasing.

"I can agree to that," I told her, chuckling.

Relief swept over both of us, I think, because the disagreement had been resolved.

"Come here," Zoey urged, her eyes suddenly smoldering. She made a beckoning motion with one hand and gave me an inviting, alluring smile. "That almost felt like a fight, and now we need to go make up."

"But dinner-?" I asked, though I stepped closer anyway. I couldn't help it- she was irresistible to me.

_Why are you arguing? Moron._

"Can wait," she finished, pulling me by the hand towards our bedroom.

And then we found out just how much fun "making up" could be.

* * *

"Ok, you want me to return the Bentley and get a new car," I said now, months later. "Did you already have one in mind?"

_Like I even need to ask._

"The new Jaguar E-Type," Zoey replied happily.

"I see. Are you sure  _I'm_  going to be the one driving this car?"

She pouted. "Yes, of course. What do you take me for?"

"Just the prettiest gear head I've ever seen," I told her, kissing her hair.

I felt her skin warm in the dark, a sure sign that she was blushing.

"Oh, Hank. You always say the sweetest things."

* * *

The next weekend Zoey eagerly dragged me to the luxury car dealership, and I let her. I knew better than to quibble over price at this point- we truly were well-off enough that even a luxury import wouldn't set us back much. And if it made her happy for me to drive a fancy car, then drive a fancy car I would.

She could hardly wait for me to open the car door for her when we arrived. Once she was out she linked her arm with mine and walked us towards the Jaguar Cars, Ltd. section. We didn't make it far before we were intercepted by a slick-looking salesman.

"Can I help you?" the unctuous man asked, his eyes darting between us.

It seemed like he couldn't decide who to speak to- me (the male, who therefore supposedly should know about cars), or the beautiful woman on my arm. His admiration was evident as he looked at Zoey.

I immediately felt a tremor of possessiveness, a warning hiss in the back of my head from Beast. Did this man really have to give my wife the "once-over" right in front of me? Or was I just too insignificant to matter? I tried to tamp down the slimy feeling in my chest, without much success.

Zoey glanced up at me, the question evident in her eyes. I nodded reluctantly.

_You like her now, Mr. Salesman? Wait until she drops her car knowledge on you._

"Yes, you can," she said happily. "My husband and I are looking for a Jaguar E-Type 2+2 coupe."

He blinked. "W-what year?"

"1969. I know the seats are different, but I want you to be comfortable," Zoey replied, looking up at me with a loving smile. "Power steering and air conditioning too, please. Is it true that they changed the cam covers on the Series II-?"

I think the man- his name turned out to be Jim- was in love with her by the time she said "power steering," just as I thought he would be. He tripped all over himself showing Zoey the one E-Type they had on site, leaning uncomfortably close to point out the dashboard features as she sat in the driver's seat. Meanwhile, I stood off to the side feeling useless and trying to contain my jealousy over another man fawning over my wife.

It got  _very_  difficult when he boldly used one hand to brush her curls back over her shoulder, ignoring the way she shied away from the overly-familiar gesture.

I almost reached out and broke his wrist, but settled for a pointed cough to remind him I hadn't miraculously disappeared.

Seeing another man touch her made my vision blur, the metallic, burning taste of rage fill my mouth and frissons of energy course through my limbs. I hadn't felt such an overwhelming fury in a very long time. Keeping calm was almost impossible when Zoey was involved.

"You alright?" she asked, as Jim ran to see the list price for the car. He was completely unaware of the violence I was contemplating towards him.

"He likes you too much," I muttered through gritted teeth.

_If he touches you again, I'll tear his arm off._

"He's being a salesmen," Zoey agreed, scrunching up her nose in distaste. "He's so oily if I threw him in a bathtub he'd float to the top."

I was startled into a laugh, but the moment of levity quickly passed as I thought again of how Jim looked at her. Her dismissive attitude towards the man  _was_  rather soothing, though.

"Are you feeling jealous?" Zoey asked, her expression shocked.

I shrugged. Suddenly my shoes were much too interesting to meet her gaze.

"Oh, Hank," she murmured, slipping her arms around my neck. She stood on tiptoe to kiss me. "There's no competition for you, anywhere. Ever."

Her words worked their way into my soul, assuaging my animosity. I relaxed a little.

"Now watch me 'CEO' that man into the worst deal of his life," Zoey said darkly, a dangerous gleam in her eyes that actually turned me on a little.

_Am I crazy for that? Eh. Oh well._

And sure enough, she made good on her word. I don't think a Jaguar had ever sold for less before then, or since.


	50. An Evening Out

  **An Evening Out**

A knock came to my laboratory door one morning, interrupting me in the middle of an experiment.

"Hey, Beast!" Sean's voice called.

"Yeah?"

He looked jittery when he entered, like he was full of nervous excitement. I eyed him curiously.

"What's up?"

"Do you and Zoey have plans tonight?" Sean asked tentatively.

It was a Friday, but that didn't matter so much anymore. NBC had cancelled  _Star Trek_ , to Zoey's devastation. The announcement had been made only a week or two before we got married.

I could still remember when she phoned to tell me- the hysteria in her voice, how panicked I became in response because I thought for a split second she was calling off the wedding. And then I realized she was freaking out over a  _television_ _program._

But it wasn't just _any_ television program, it was Zoey's absolute favorite. For a while watching  _Star Trek_  had been the highlight of her week when her father first passed away. So I sighed, knuckled down, and consoled her like a good fiance.

"Not that I know of," I told Sean now. "Why?"

"I was hoping that you guys could go out to dinner with Maeve and I tonight," he explained. "I-I'm going to ask her to marry me."

_About time._

Maeve and Sean had been together for so long I could barely remember how many years it'd been. Almost four? It was almost a running joke now, whether he would ever finally propose.

"That's wonderful," I said honestly. "Congratulations. I'm sure she'll say 'yes.'"

He perked up. "You think so?"

I nodded. "Logically speaking, Maeve would've broken up with you by now if she didn't want to spend the rest of her life with you," I reasoned.

_Not that I'm an expert on women or anything. Mystical creatures, all of them._

Sean winced. Had my attempt to comfort him fallen flat? Well, at least I tried. It made sense to me, at least.

"Thanks, I guess," he said, backing towards the exit. "Barbetta, six-thirty, ok? And you can ask Gwen to come if you want. Alex said he would come if she did."

"Will do," I told him, waving.

Once he was gone I called Zoey's office. Gwen, Zoey's best friend and secretary, answered on the second ring.

Zoey had told me that they'd known each other since kindergarten, though Zoey eventually skipped several grades. When Gwen completed a secretary program immediately after finishing high school, it felt like the right choice to hire her on. Gwen wasn't just her secretary, though. She was Zoey's closest confidant, the only one who knew that she was a mutant besides her godparents and those of us at the Institute. Together, they ran a tight ship at Dubois Enterprises.

_"Dubois Enterprises, this is Gwen speaking,"_ she greeted me politely.  _"How can I help you?"_

"Hey, Gwen. It's Hank," I said.

Her formal demeanor immediately vanished.  _"Hi, Hank. Want to speak to the boss lady?"_

"Please."

She transferred me over to Zoey's private line.

_"Hello, Dr. McCoy,"_  my wife's voice sang into the phone.

"Hi, Dr. McCoy," I replied, grinning like an idiot. "I was wondering if you wanted to go out with Maeve and Sean tonight."

_"Sure, that sounds nice."_

"Sean's proposing at dinner."

I heard something fall over, along with a shocked gasp.  _"No way!"_

"Yeah."

Zoey hooted with laughter.  _"Am I terrible for my first thought being 'finally?'"_

"Only if I am, too," I told her, as she giggled. "Gwen's invited too, though. Tell her Alex will be there if she wants to come."

_"Ok, I'll let her know before I head out to my next meeting,"_ Zoey promised.  _"How's your day going?"_

"I've been running gels all morning. You were right- there seems to be a causative link with HCA's and cancer."

_"That's fantastic!"_  she said. _"I wish I could help you more. I like running gels, it's soothing."_

I laughed. "Nerd," I accused affectionately. "I love you."

_"I love you, too,"_ she replied, making a kissing sound into the phone.

I'd never tell anyone, but I loved it when she did that.

* * *

Zoey and I arrived at the restaurant right after Sean and Maeve.

"Hi, guys!" Maeve called, waving enthusiastically when she spotted us out on the sidewalk in front.

It was hard not to like Maeve- she was always so bubbly and happy all the time. She was rather similar to her boyfriend that way.

_Just not as goofy, and without the former stoner persona._

She ran over to us and hugged Zoey tightly. As she held my wife, I heard her whisper excitedly, using my super-sensitive hearing, "I think Sean's proposing to me tonight!"

"Yeah?" Zoey replied, giggling. "That's wonderful!"

"Just waiting on Alex and Gwen now?" I asked Sean, while the ladies pulled apart and started to chat at normal volume.

Sean nodded- he looked a little green under all the freckles. It reminded me of the day Erik pushed him off that satellite dish, so many years ago.

"You ok?" I kept my voice low, so Maeve couldn't hear. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. But what if she says-?"

"Jesus, Beast," Alex's voice called out from behind us. "You look like you're surrounded by a bunch of ginger midgets."

The three redheads in question (who, to be fair,  _were_  much shorter than I was) rounded on him angrily, ready to avenge the politically incorrect insult. He had a big teasing grin on his face as he reached us, with Gwen at his side.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Do you ever get tired of being an ass?"

There had never been anything romantic between them to my knowledge, but Gwen and Alex tended to fall in together whenever it came to social gatherings like this. An antagonistic friendship was much better than being a lonely fifth wheel to two happy couples, after all. And secretly I think they enjoyed taking digs at each other.

"Hey, I have my moments," Alex retorted. "Just ask Beast."

I grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

"That was  _one_  time, and you said yourself that it was for your Camaro-" Gwen argued.

"Anyone hungry?" Zoey cut in brightly, before they really gathered up steam.

Sometimes it was just fun to watch Alex and Gwen snipe at each other, like a table tennis match. But at other times it was like being around two bickering toddlers.

"Yeah, let's go," Sean replied, still looking jittery.

The helpful hostess sat us in the garden outside, where a small fountain quietly bubbled away and lights twinkled from the topiary plants surrounding us. It was a sultry August evening, perfect for an outdoor dining experience. Very romantic.

"Oh. They have an orange chocolate mousse here," Maeve noted, after menus were handed out.

"Really?" Zoey asked, flipping to the back.

I snorted.

"Hey. What are you laughing at?"

"You," I replied, knowing that my adoration was evident in my expression and uncaring of that fact as I looked at her. "Straight for the dessert menu, like always."

Zoey giggled and leaned in to give me a kiss, while Alex made gagging sounds.

"Your mushiness is making me lose my appetite," he grouched, leaning back in his seat.

"Oh, hush!" Maeve scolded him, in a rare flash of temper. "They're happily married, leave them alone. I hope one day-"

But then she cut herself off, blushing furiously as she gave Sean a sideways glance.

It seemed like that was the cue he was looking for. He took a deep breath and slid out of his chair, down onto one knee. His hands were shaking and his face was pale white as he pulled out a ring box. It looked like he was trying to keep himself from completely falling to pieces. The rest of us perked up immediately, a sort of collective anticipation as we all awaited the outcome.

"Maeve-" Sean's voice came out as a squeak.

_Ooph. Come on, Cassidy. You can do it._

"Will you-?"

Maeve let out a shriek of joy and then promptly burst into tears. She threw her arms around Sean's neck and started kissing all over his face.

"Yes!" she sobbed, saving him the trouble of actually finishing. "Yes! I thought you'd never ask!"

"Neither did the rest of us," Alex muttered.

Two loud thumps sounded from underneath the table, as both Zoey and Gwen hissed angrily at him.

"Ow! What the the hell? Did you  _both_ have to kick me?"

"Yes," they snapped in unison, while I desperately tried not to laugh.

And thankfully Maeve and Sean were too wrapped up in their own little bubble of joy to notice.

* * *

"I'm glad that worked out so well," Zoey said, snuggling against me as we laid in bed later that night. "Maeve deserves to be happy."

"And Sean, too," I agreed.

She was quiet for a long time- so long that I would've thought she'd fallen asleep if it weren't for the lack of snoring. My suspicions were confirmed when she suddenly let out a quiet chuckle.

"What's funny?" I asked, brushing my hand through her curls.

"I was just thinking- when you're miserable, you hate to see other people being happy," Zoey explained. "You want everyone to be as depressed as you are. But when you're  _happy_..."

"You want everyone to feel that way, too," I finished.

"Mhmm."

Zoey giggled and shifted her body so she was looking me in the face, her chin on my chest.

"I wish happiness could spread like a contagious disease," Zoey announced. "Wouldn't it be great if you could sneeze on someone and make them  _catch_  it?"

"Ah yes, the happy flu," I mused, nodding sagely. "That would be biological warfare at its finest."

"You should start working on that one, Dr. McCoy," Zoey teased. "I mean, now that you've discovered a link between heterocyclic amines and cancer."

"Now that  _we've_  discovered a link between HCA's and cancer. You're the one that set up the protocol," I corrected. "So you're co-authoring, when the findings are ready to be published."

"Fine, if you're going to twist my arm about it," she conceded, making us both laugh.

After our chuckles died away Zoey snuggled against me so tightly it was like she was trying to perform some sort of reverse-mitosis. I wondered what was on her mind now.

"I feel so lucky to have you," she whispered suddenly. "Thank you."

_Oh. Now I get it._

This would be her first scientific paper since her thesis, so Zoey was thanking me for being supportive. I nearly melted on the spot.

"You're welcome," I replied softly. "I'm lucky too, you know. What we have... It's more precious than gold. How many people can say that they not only professionally collaborate with their spouse, but enjoy it?"

"We are such huge nerds," Zoey muttered.

" _Happy_  nerds," I agreed, pulling her in for a kiss.


	51. With Friends Like These

**With Friends Like These**

"Banshee, are you sure you want to do this?" I asked apprehensively.

My redheaded friend gave me a look best described as one of betrayal. "Of course I do," he snapped. "What's with that question? I mean, I'd expect it from Havok, but  _you're_ married already."

"Hey," I replied, back-tracking quickly. My hands went up in a gesture of surrender. "That's not what I was getting at. I meant are you sure you want to get married in _Las Vegas_?"

"Oh," Sean muttered sheepishly. "Sorry."

For a moment he said nothing, choosing to fiddle with the zipper of a suitcase instead.

We were in Charles' small private jet, waiting for Zoey, Alex, Gwen, and Maeve to finish up loading up on snacks in the small airport mall before takeoff. I was flying us to Las Vegas for the weekend, where Sean and Maeve would be tying the knot.

Now I was just trying to understand the motivation behind this impromptu (literally- Sean had asked me Wednesday if I had plans for the weekend, and now here we were) wedding trip, taking place less than six weeks after Sean's marriage proposal.

I definitely had my suspicions.

_Should someone bring a shotgun?_

"Well?" I prompted.

"Well..." Sean began. "We thought it'd be fun, for all of us to go together. Maeve's parents kinda hate me, so they weren't coming to our wedding anyway. And..."

He took a deep breath and looked down at his feet.

"She's pregnant. We just found out she's over two months along."

_Bingo._

My face was composed into a reassuring smile by the time Sean raised his gaze to meet mine. Which was a good thing, because the concept of impending fatherhood seemed to be upsetting his digestion.

_Would it be rude to hand him a barf bag? Hmm... probably._

"Congratulations," I said sincerely, shaking his hand.

"Thanks," he muttered disconsolately. "I wish... I wanted to give her something better than this. A shotgun wedding."

Sean seemed genuinely upset, and I was hit by a swell of sympathy. He was honestly trying to do the right thing for the woman he loved. Couldn't anyone relate?

"Don't worry about that," I assured him. "Zoey and Gwen will make sure Maeve gets the wedding she deserves. Those two are ruthless about that sort of thing. It'll be a fun weekend."

Sean snorted, and suddenly he was  _almost_  his normal self- the jokester, the class clown who hardly ever got ruffled about anything.

"Yeah, you're right," he agreed, laughing quietly to himself. "And with Havok and Gwen around, we won't even need to worry about entertainment."

As if on cue, the cabin door burst open at that moment with a bickering Alex and Gwen leading the way inside. Zoey followed and made a beeline straight for me.

"What's wrong with them now?" I murmured, after a "hello" kiss.

She snorted. "Something about beef jerky," she replied, slipping her arms around me. "So, you're really going to fly this thing?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Darn. I was hoping we could join the Mile High Club," she whispered, her fingers tracing patterns on the nape of my neck. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and her smile was utterly bewitching.

All of my breath escaped in a whoosh. "Temptress," I accused. "Go sit down, or we'll never get off-"

Zoey started to giggle, and my ears warmed.

_"Get off." Haha. I'm going to go stick my head in an ice bucket now._

* * *

The flight was smooth, and once we landed the ladies deployed on their wedding mission with the efficiency of a military force.

Meanwhile, I baby-sat Sean and Alex while they got completely trashed at the hotel bar. Alex was grumpy because Sean had declined going to a strip club on his last night of "freedom."

"Why not? I expect this un-fun crap from him," Alex griped, pointing a finger at me. "But not  _you_."

_Hey. I'm plenty fun. I flew the party plane, remember?_

Sean shrugged. "Maeve asked me not to," he said simply.

Alex groaned and gulped down the last of his bourbon. "I need new friends. Are we at least getting drunk tonight?"

"Of course," Sean retorted, grinning. "You want some rum for that Coke, Beast?"

"Not unless you want tomorrow's headlines to be about an escaped blue ape ravaging The Strip," I replied dryly.

I'd gotten drunk  _once_  in my life, in the safety of the mansion's walls before we opened the school. _Never_ again. All my inhibitions completely deserted me- including my control over my own strength and the ability to reason why swinging from chandelier to chandelier was a bad idea. The property damage costs and the hangover the following morning just weren't worth it.

He laughed. "You can't hold your liquor with a damn."

By the time the ladies joined us, around eleven pm, Sean and Alex had developed a healthy buzz.

"Hello, beautiful," Sean said loudly as Maeve and Zoey came over- Gwen was getting a drink at the bar. "Got everything ready for tomorrow?"

"Yes. We're due at the Little Church of the West tomorrow at four o'clock," Maeve replied, smiling happily.

"I can't wait to marry you," her lushy fiance slurred. "W-why so late?"

"Because you're going to have a hangover in the morning, and I don't want you to puke during the ceremony," she explained. She patted his head fondly.

Sean laughed and shoved my shoulder. "Isn't she great?"

"Yeah," I agreed, raising my glass to the bride-to-be.

Gwen came over at that moment with a drink in each hand. She slid one of them right in front of Zoey.

"Drink," she ordered simply. When Zoey opened her mouth to protest, Gwen held her hand up. "I've never seen you have more than a glass of wine, Zo. Drink up and live a little."

"Yeah," Alex piped in. "Be more fun than your stick-in-the-mud husband."

Zoey glanced at me, obviously looking for an opinion.

I shrugged. "It's fine."

"Ok then," she said, raising her glass to Maeve and Sean.  _"A la votre!"_

My wife weighed ninety-seven pounds soaking wet, and had no alcohol tolerance to speak of. After one strawberry daiquiri she was a cute, giggly mess. After two she was having trouble staying upright. By the time Zoey finished her third, she was nodding off at the table.

At that point Maeve and I agreed that it was time to get our drunken cohorts to bed. Alex, Sean, and Gwen whined about it, but followed us like little ducklings up the stairs to our rooms while I carried Zoey.

"You guys are soooo cute together," Gwen giggled. Then her expression became a little wistful. "I wish I had a Prince Charming, too."

Alex tried to make a sweeping, courtly bow. "Hey, I could be-"

And then he fell onto his face.

* * *

The next day I had orange juice, aspirin, and a bacon sandwich waiting for Zoey when she woke up moaning that her head hurt.

"You're the best husband, ever," she muttered through a mouthful of sandwich. "I'm  _never_  doing that again."

"That's what they all say. Now come on, darling," I teased. "We've got a wedding to get to."

She groaned and tried to bury herself back under the covers.

Despite all precautions, the bride and myself were the only members of the bridal party who weren't bleary-eyed and hungover for the ceremony. It was a rather stereotypical Las Vegas wedding in that sense.

But at least Sean and Maeve said their vows in the presence of people who cared for them. That had to mean something, at least, despite all the inebriation.

"Was this enough for you?" I overheard Sean whisper when we all sat down to a small reception dinner. "You deserved-"

Maeve silenced him with a kiss. "This is  _perfect_ , Sean. I love you."

"I love you, too, Maeve," he replied fervently. "So much."

* * *

Seven months later, the waiting area of the local hospital was crowded with well-wishers waiting for news from the delivery room.

Sean, the expectant father, was sitting in between Zoey and Moira, nervously clutching their hands in his. I had Zoey's other hand, and Charles had Moira's.

When Gwen noticed the little hand-holding chain we had going on she shrugged, said, "oh, why not?" and latched onto me.

"Come on, Alex," she prodded, holding out her free hand.

"No, thanks," he said in a tone that implied he thought himself much too cool for that sort of thing.

"Fine," Gwen retorted, sticking her tongue out at him. " _Be_  a grumpy loner."

Alex rolled his eyes at her and let out a put-upon sigh, but took her proffered hand. The rest of us tried to fight back laughter as he caved to peer-pressure.

"There we go," Gwen teased. "I knew you had it in you."

And then she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He immediately turned red.

_My stars and garters, Alex Summers is blushing. What's the world coming to?_

Alex caught my eye and grimaced at my obvious amusement. "Shut up," he muttered.

But he didn't let go of Gwen's hand.

_So much love and support in this room,_  I thought, looking at all the faces around me. _I think it says something for the family you choose._

That was how the doctor found us all, tensely holding hands.

"Congratulations, Mr. Cassidy," he said. "Mother and baby are both fine and healthy. It's a girl."

"Oh, thank God."

All of the tension left Sean's body so fast he almost slid to the floor like a limp noodle. I honestly think Zoey and Moira's grip on his hands were the only thing that kept him upright.

The rest of us were like statues coming to life, offering congratulations. The stress bled out of the atmosphere like air escaping a balloon, leaving only jubilation and relief behind.

"C-can I see them?" Sean asked hopefully.

And despite all the nerves, how scared I could see he still was about being a father, he looked happy. Excited, even, to get this chance, though he probably had no idea what he was doing.

I'd wondered if he was prepared for the responsibility, but now... it was like the moment the baby arrived, he was suddenly ready for it. I wondered if it was the same for all fathers?

"Of course. Right this way."

As Sean stood up and hurried to go meet his daughter for the first time, my gaze met Zoey's.

I could see it in her eyes, what she was thinking- probably because my thoughts were the same.

_Someday, that will be us._


	52. Changes

**Changes**

Before I knew it, over four years had passed since Zoey and I got married. It seemed like the time had flown by, but I was too busy being happy to notice.

Life was better than I could have ever dreamed. Since I was a child, I'd always huddled behind science and learning, shutting myself off from people in the process. No one- not even my parents- would accept my monkey-feet. Science did not judge me, and in return I embraced it whole-heartedly, leaving me with a permanent sense of disconnect from other people. In doing so I'd grown from a shy, awkward little boy into an even  _more_  shy, more awkward young man. One who would never be comfortable in his own skin, who thought if only he could change one thing about himself, everything else in his life would fall into place.

"But even if you  _had_ changed your feet, you wouldn't be able to change  _who_  your feet made you into," Zoey told me once. "I mean, even if somehow I suddenly grew six inches, I'd still have a bit of a Napoleon complex."

"What'd you say? I can't hear you from up here," I teased, grinning down at her.

"Oh hush. Now lean down where I can reach you and give me a kiss."

* * *

Sometimes I wished for some sort of time machine in order to whisk myself back, so I could tell my seventeen year old self what was on the horizon if only I waited long enough. Maybe that way the pain and crippling self-consciousness of the intervening years after my second mutation would've been easier to bear.

For almost six years, my life had been frozen. I was paralyzed by the knowledge that no one would ever care for the real me, and a deep self-hatred. I clung to science, my life raft in a sea of loneliness and hopeless longing. I thought nothing would ever change. And nothing did, until I actually  _tried._

And now... I felt that everything I'd gone through- driving Raven away, my second mutation, almost losing Zoey and finally accepting my feral half- all of it was worth it to be where I was, _who_ I was now. Because I was with my Zoey, and I was the man she loved.

Zoey literally made all the difference for me. Her love, her acceptance, gave me the confidence to finally be more comfortable with myself. Though I certainly didn't magically transform into an extrovert, I definitely felt more free to joke around and laugh without feeling self-conscious anymore.

It was Alex who pointed this out to me- in true "Alex" fashion, of course.

"Your woman has changed you, you know," he remarked one day, while we were doing maintenance on the Blackbird. "In a good way, though."

I stopped unscrewing lug-nuts and frowned. "How's that?"

"Well, you're not all broody and depressed all the time anymore," Alex replied. "Who knew getting married would fix all your issues?"

"Perhaps you have a point. Have you proposed to Gwen yet? Maybe marriage would fix all of  _your_  glaring personality problems," I retorted, grinning. "It certainly worked for Sean."

Marriage and fatherhood had had a sobering effect on Sean. He'd always been a bit of a goofball, but since he married Maeve and their baby, Theresa, arrived he had become much more mature and- while not exactly  _serious_ , at least more thoughtful than before. I felt it was good for him.

Alex laughed off the implied jibe, but when he spoke he was sincere. "See, that right there. You're not so defensive and wound up all the time."

I knew he had a point, but I didn't really have a response for that. I shrugged and went back to work.

"It's kinda nice," he mused. "I mean, now I don't have to worry about you snapping one day and ripping my head off for picking on you too much."

I rolled my eyes. "I still could, you know."

"Yeah, sure."

* * *

"Alex said something interesting to me today," I commented to Zoey that night after I'd done the dishes.

She'd made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. After four years, Zoey had finally gotten the hang of cooking- so much so that she actually wanted to do Thanksgiving at our apartment this year, instead of going to the Rivers' house. She'd joked that we should invite my parents to New York because they didn't know about her former reputation for burning water.

And then she'd given me the  _look_  when I laughed and agreed with her.

"Oh yeah? What'd he say?" she asked me now.

"That you've changed me," I replied, fighting back a smile.

"'Changed you?'" Zoey repeated. She looked puzzled.

"Yeah."

"Changed you how?" she asked, frowning.

I chuckled. "Why do you look upset about it?"

"I'm not upset, just confused. I don't see how I've done anything to change you," Zoey explained.

"It wasn't something you did on purpose, sweetheart," I told her, kissing her forehead. "Alex just pointed out how much happier I am now that I have you, compared to before. And I happen to agree with him."

Zoey cast her eyes down and blushed prettily. She still reacted that way when I complimented her, even after all this time.

"I feel- I feel like with you, I'm the man I was  _supposed_  to be, how I could have been if I grew up feeling more accepted."

Her answering laugh had a hint of disbelief behind it. "I don't see how I'm responsible for that, darling," Zoey said speculatively. "What have I done?"

"You've loved me," I told her simply.

She snorted and snuggled up on my lap. I buried my nose in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her curls, and held her tightly.

"You act like that's difficult," she murmured, turning her head slightly. Her quiet laugh brushed against my neck seductively, making coherency flee. "It sounds like you're  _finally_ starting to acknowledge the things in yourself that I've seen all along."

"L-like what?"

"How witty and funny you are," Zoey replied. "Your strength of character. How you're someone who's worthy of admiration and respect for all the wonderful things you do."

Almost every other word was punctuated by a kiss or a nibble on my neck.

My hands tightened on her in response, my skin warming under her lips. I could already feel the sparks of electricity flitting across my nerves, every synapse lighting up like the Fourth of July from wanting her.

"I've never met anyone with more self-control," she added softly.

Now her fingers were undoing the buttons on my shirt. My own hand wandered under her dress, searching out familiar territory and caressing in the ways I knew by now would make her melt. She squirmed in my lap, eliciting a low growl deep in my chest. My eyes were probably yellow already.

_Right, self-control. What's that again?_

"So when you lose it-"

My free hand brought Zoey's face to mine, cutting her off mid-sentence with a feverish kiss. She moaned low in her throat and bit my lip, tugging on my hair-

We didn't even make it to our bedroom.

I never did find out what she was going to say about me losing my self-control. I was too busy losing myself in  _her._

* * *

A few weeks later we were watching football (meaning Zoey watched while I munched on the popcorn she hadn't thrown at the television yet- the Jets were having a bad year) when a commercial for baby food came on.

My gaze immediately swept over to Zoey's face, and sure enough, her expression was wistful.

She'd been like that for a few months now, whenever she saw something baby-related. Television commercials, TV shows- I'd even lost her in the grocery store a few times because she would get side-tracked and stop to coo over an infant in a stroller. A soft, longing look would come to her eyes whenever she held baby Theresa.

Clearly, Zoey was at least  _thinking_  about us starting a family. I'd been waiting for her to say something, but so far she hadn't brought it up. It made me wonder if she was waiting for a sign from me, or if she thought I wasn't ready to consider us having a baby yet.

My own feelings about the matter were slightly conflicted.

I liked children well enough, though babies were a bit of a mystery to me. But the images of seeing Zoey glowing and round, carrying our child and then later, holding a baby with her green eyes and my dark hair- it surprised me, how much I wanted those visions to come true. For there to be a person that was half me, and half Zoey. I wanted to believe that we would be good parents, that we would raise our child to feel loved. I wanted to be a good father in the ways mine wasn't.

What made me hesitate, what _frightened_ me, was the possibility of passing on my mutation. Zoey's was invisible, with possibly the exception of her iridescent hair, but mine, mine was physical. My mutation had caused me to live the life of an outsider, someone who never fit in anywhere. That feeling of being a freak had driven me to try to find a cure, and in doing so I'd made my mutation so much worse. What if our child came out looking like a little blue stuffed animal? They would never be accepted in human society.

_But the Institute wasn't around when I was a kid. At least our child would have somewhere to belong._

As well as two loving parents who would love and accept them no matter what. That decided me on the subject.

"Zoey?" I asked quietly.

"Hmm?" Her response was absent-minded, because the game was back on.

"What do you think about... us trying for a baby?"

Zoey's head whipped around so fast I thought for a moment that she hurt her neck. Her eyes were wide with surprise-

And hope. I could see the hope written there, as clear as a newspaper headline.

"Really? Y-you want to-?" she asked breathlessly.

I nodded. "Yes. I think we're as ready as we can be. Do you?"

"Yes," Zoey replied, with a dazzling smile that took my breath away. "Yes, I do."


	53. Enceinte?

**Enceinte?**

We decided not to put too much effort into trying for a baby, for fear that love-making would otherwise become a chore _,_  rather than an expression of passion and intimacy between us. Instead, we wanted to let things happen naturally and let "fate" or whatever other powers at be in the universe choose when we would conceive. So Zoey stopped taking her contraceptive pills the day after our conversation, but otherwise we continued on just as before.

That's not to say I didn't know when the best time to "try" was, once she stopped taking those pills. My body was now completely attuned to hers, thanks to me being a feral mutant. It meant I could smell the pheromones my mate emitted once she actually started having a true fertility cycle again, and my instincts kicked in accordingly. That certainly led to a lot of fun nights... and mornings.

It also meant that when our efforts succeeded, I could smell that too.

* * *

In a strange sort of symmetry, my realization occurred about four months later, on February 20, 1974- the sixth anniversary of the very first day I saw Zoey Dubois in Marceline's Cafe and Bookstore.

We always did something special to mark the occasion of that particular day, even though I obviously didn't speak to Zoey for the first time until a few weeks later, and didn't start buying her mochas until later still. Despite that, I always took note of February 20th. It was the day I fell in love with her from across the room, the day I finally saw someone, something worth  _trying_  for. Even though it took me months to actually do anything about it, the journey from my state of arrested development until now started on that day.

With that in mind, I left the Institute early to go home and make Zoey her favorite meal (besides anything chocolate): steak  _au poivre_  and mashed potatoes. I also got her flowers and a new book-the original French version of  _La Belle et la Bete,_ by Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont.

_Sappy? Me? ...Maybe just a little._

Zoey got home right when I was putting dinner on the table in the dining room.

"Hello, handsome," she said, breezily strolling into the kitchen. She peered over the bar to see what I'd made. "Oh, wow, my favorite! And flowers? What's the occasion?"

I won't lie- I felt a little wounded that she didn't remember, after all the years we'd been doing this. It was our own private version of Valentine's Day.

"Oh, Hank, I'm just kidding," Zoey assured me, taking in my crestfallen expression. She held up a small box where I could see it. "I got you sponge cake!"

I grinned. "And I got you chocolate lava cake. How are we going to chose?"

She snorted. "You can chose if you want to. I'm having some of both."

We both laughed.

Zoey sashayed over to give me a kiss. She snuggled in my arms for a moment while I held her tightly, inhaling deeply-

And then again.

It was subtle, the change in her scent, but it was definitely there. I only noticed because I was so sensitive to her in the first place.

"Why are you sniffing me, you weirdo?" Zoey teased, pulling back slightly so she could see my face.

"Your scent's changed," I explained meaningfully.

She giggled flirtatiously, her cheeks flushing up. "Ok. Let's eat dinner first before it gets cold, and then we'll-"

"Not like that, sweetheart," I cut in. I put my hand on her perfectly flat stomach to illustrate my point. "Something else entirely."

Zoey's mouth fell open in shock, her eyes wide with surprise. "You think-?"

I nodded, my expression probably just as stunned. I was too astounded to even begin processing all the possible ramifications of this discovery.

Her smile was like the sunrise- the promise of a new day, a new beginning. It was so infectious I had to smile, too. The astonishment started to fade just a little, leaving behind an almost painful nervous excitement.

"Oh, Hank-" she whispered, with an evident wonderment that was likely mirrored on my own face.

Both of Zoey's hands joined mine on her tummy, holding my palm over the place where our child quite possibly was beginning to grow.

* * *

"Hey, Uncle Hank!" a familiar voice called out behind me, less than a week later.

I turned to see Olivia skipping my way and tried to arrange my expression into a welcoming smile.

"Hi, Livie," I greeted her. "Do you need something? I'm in a bit of a hurry-"

I was actually leaving the Institute early today so I could meet up with Zoey for a doctor's appointment. Before we got our hopes up  _too_  much- more so than they already were, anyway- I wanted our suspicions confirmed. Zoey seemed to trust my sense of smell more than I did. Or maybe I just wouldn't fully believe she was pregnant until we had a professional's opinion.

Olivia's face fell.

It was hard to believe that the tall, coltishly pretty thirteen year old in front of me was once the little girl I carried around on my shoulders at the New York Aquarium on my birthday so long ago. Olivia was already taller than her aunt, something that made Zoey pout whenever we teased her about it. But it made me sad, how fast Olivia was growing up. I had a feeling it was a taste of how I would feel about my own children someday.

"Darn," Olivia whined. "I was hoping you would help me with my English paper."

I sighed, knowing I would be a bad uncle if I didn't help. I'd been tutoring her when necessary for years now. "When's it due?"

"Day after tomorrow," she admitted sheepishly.

"Ok. Do what you can on it today and I'll help you out tomorrow," I promised. "I've got to get going now, though. I'm meeting your aunt."

"Ooooh," Olivia teased, falling in to step next to me as I started walking again. "Are you guys playing hooky today? Can I come too?"

I snorted. "No- on both counts," I replied. I offered no further explanation.

Zoey and I had decided that even if we  _were_  expecting, we weren't going to announce it for a couple months. Just in case...

So much could go wrong, for both mother  _and_  baby, and if I stopped to think about something bad happening to Zoey for even a moment I would start to panic.

_Obviously, it might be a little too late to be having second thoughts._

Some glimmer of my disturbing ruminations must have passed over my face, because Olivia froze in her tracks.

"Uncle Hank?" she squeaked. "Is something wrong with Auntie?"

Without waiting for an answer she reached out and grabbed my wrist.

"Livie," I scolded, snatching my arm back quickly. "You know you're not supposed to do that."

"Sorry," she told me, immediately guilty. She always felt contrite when her impatience got the better of her and she invaded people's thoughts. "Just- your face, I thought something was wrong and you were trying to hide it."

For a brief moment I had hopes that I'd pulled away too fast for her to get a read on me.

But then Olivia squealed and clapped her hands, just like she used to do when she was little. "Auntie's pregnant! I'm going to be an auntie!"

_Damn._

"Shhh!" I pleaded, glancing around. Thankfully there was no one nearby. "We don't know for certain yet. And anyway, you'd have a  _cousin_ , not a niece or nephew."

She waved off the correction. "I'm so excited! I can't wait to-"

"Livie," I said seriously. "You can't tell anyone.  _No one_ , do you understand?"

Olivia pouted. "Why not?"

"It's not your news to share, is it?" I asked rhetorically. "You shouldn't even know right now. Zoey and I will tell people when we're ready, ok?"

"Ok," she agreed, sighing.

"Promise?"

"I promise," Olivia replied sullenly.

"Thank you. Now I won't have to send your aunt after you," I teased.

She rolled her eyes. "Right, because a short, pregnant lady could catch me."

_And with that hilarious mental image, I take my leave._

* * *

Zoey shifted uncomfortably on the paper cover of the examination table. The crackling sound seemed to fit her obviously frazzled state of mind.

We were waiting in the exam room for the test results to come back, both trying to stay patient. The delay was practically interminable, though it seemed to be harder for her than myself. I couldn't say I blamed her- after all, she was the one who'd be doing all the hard work if we got the news we were hoping for.

I brought our entwined hands to my lips and pressed kisses against Zoey's fingertips, trying to calm her. Her eyes immediately softened as she held my gaze.

Even after all this time, that look still gave me butterflies.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you," I replied, kissing the back of her hand. "It's-"

A knock came at the door, and both of us sat up a little straighter. Dr. Stevenson, a myopic middle-aged man with a paunch, entered the room and gave us both an avuncular smile.

"Dr. and Dr. McCoy, nice to see you both," he said warmly. "We have your test results back, and-"

Zoey squeezed my hand so tightly I felt her nails digging into my skin. Meanwhile, I'd stopped breathing back when the doctor first knocked on the door.

"-I'm pleased to say that you are indeed pregnant.  _Very_  newly pregnant, but still."

And finally, I could breathe again.

Dr. Stevenson gave us a moment to compose ourselves after he delivered the news.

Zoey had happy tears in her eyes as I stood up and pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her close. A stupidly happy grin was on my face, and she... she was absolutely  _radiant_  with joy.

_This angel is ecstatic to be carrying my child. Will wonders never cease?_

I stayed standing while the doctor began to run through information that we needed to know now- mainly a long list of things Zoey wasn't allowed to do, from the sounds of it- but it was like he was speaking from the other end of a long tunnel.

Because it was truly sinking in for me.

We were having a baby. I was going to be a father.


	54. Oh, Baby

**Oh, Baby**

The next six weeks of Zoey's pregnancy were rough, thanks to the morning sickness that started within a few days of her doctor's appointment.

I tried to help as much as I could, doing things like holding her hair and rubbing her back while she was violently sick, holding cool cloths to her clammy skin, and making her peppermint tea to calm her stomach. For a while the only things she could keep down were saltine crackers and tea because the smell of basically anything else made her nauseous.

Zoey never once complained, and I think that was the worst part for me. I would sit there on the bathroom floor holding her while she trembled after yet another bout of vomiting, and she would  _thank_  me for helping her. Like it wasn't my fault for getting her pregnant in the first place.

It didn't matter that logically I knew both of us wanted this baby. I irrationally blamed myself for doing this to her anyway.

I'd never felt so in tune with my feral half before, seeing Zoey suffer like that. Both parts of me could hardly bear it. Every instinct I had was programmed to protect her, but of course I couldn't defend her from this. Instead I channeled all of the impulses I had into making her as comfortable as possible, practically waiting on her hand and foot.

"We'll never speak a word of this to anyone, right?" I asked one night as I painted her toenails an eye-watering shade of pink.

_Really, darling, could you have picked a more emasculating color?_

Zoey peeked out from behind the pillow she was burying her nose in to block out the nauseating smell of the nail polish.

"Never," she agreed, with a faint smile that made my heart swell with hope.

* * *

Despite all the changes in our lives, Thursday was still always new book day. The library in our apartment had gotten quite extensive over the years, to the point that we had to buy more bookcases and place them back-to-back in the center of the room to make space for more additions.

Tuesday visits to Marceline's had gotten sporadic, but Zoey had no intention of breaking the promise she'd made to her father about getting a new book every week. For that reason, every Thursday afternoon we went over to the coffee shop and visited with Billy and Marceline for a while. We always walked when the weather allowed because Zoey liked the fresh air.

We hadn't officially told her godparents about the baby yet, but I was positive Marceline knew anyway. She had been right by Brigitte Dubois' side during her pregnancies, and suffered three miscarriages herself. After that heartbreak the Rivers' never had any children.

I think that was part of the reason her godparents doted on Zoey so much. She couldn't replace what they'd lost, but they loved her like a daughter anyway.

The first time we stopped by after the morning sickness kicked in, Zoey had to make a run for the bathroom as soon as we entered the shop. Feeling terrible, I approached the counter where a concerned Marceline stood.

"Hello, Mrs. Rivers," I said, trying to hide my worry with false cheer.

"Hi, Hank," the older woman greeted me. She frowned. "Is Zoey alright?"

"She just ate something bad-"

_More like_ looked  _at the poster of muffins on the shop window._

"-and she's not feeling well," I lied- poorly. I could see the flare of intuition in Marceline's expression. "Better skip the mocha and get her some tea today."

"Food poisoning, huh?" she asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

_Come on, McCoy. Poker face._

I shrugged unhelpfully, looking anywhere but at her so my eyes wouldn't give me away.

Marceline chuckled, and I knew then that I hadn't fooled her one bit. "Alright," she agreed. "I'll go make some ginger tea."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

And thankfully Marceline hadn't pressed us on it.

She  _did_ , however, make a point of being behind the counter every Thursday afternoon when we arrived, with ginger tea already made for Zoey. Marceline always gave us this hopeful look, as if asking, "is today the day you tell me I'm going to be a grandmother?"

* * *

After much consideration, Zoey kindly decided to put her godmother out of her misery as the seventh week of her pregnancy began. I still thought it was a little early, but I was also at the point where anything that made my wife happy was good enough for me. I just wanted her to not be miserable anymore.

"Marcy, could you get Billy?" Zoey asked as we entered the coffee shop late one Thursday, only twenty minutes until closing time.

We were late because I insisted on her trying to eat something before we came over. She actually ate a full meal for once and it still hadn't come back up yet, for which I was grateful.

And now it was time to drop a baby bomb on her godparents.

"We have some news," Zoey explained.

Marceline's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Bill, get out here!  _Maintenant!_ " she called into the back room.

Her husband came scurrying out like he was expecting trouble, but when Billy saw it was just Zoey and I he turned to Marceline with a heavy sigh.

"You're doing bad things to my heart, Marceline."

"Sorry,  _cher_ ," she said absently, sounding completely unapologetic. She looked at us with a hopeful expression. "Now, what's the news?"

Zoey slipped her arms around my middle, giving me an encouraging squeeze. I held her close with an arm around her shoulders and took a deep breath.

"W-we're having a baby," I announced shakily.

_Please don't kill me for- what's the phrase? 'Knocking her up?'_

Marceline's reaction was as predictable as it was enthusiastic- I wasn't worried about how  _she_  would take the news.

She shrieked, clapped her hands, and stepped around the counter in a tizzy to give both of us hugs and kisses. Zoey's cheeks flushed up from the excessive attention. I probably wasn't much better.

"Oh, congratulations! How far along are you? Oh, if only your mother was here! Are you over the morning sickness? Any cravings yet? Is Hank taking care of you? Hank, are you taking care of her?" Marceline demanded, rapid-fire, without waiting for answers.

_Breathe, Marceline. Take a breath._

Billy, meanwhile, looked like he was about to cry. Or have a fit of some kind.

I couldn't say I blamed him. The girl he viewed as a daughter was now having a child herself, with the very man he encouraged her into a relationship with. I could still remember Billy's ever-present amusement over my reluctance to speak to Zoey, his indulgent willingness to play along and help me out. How he kept my secret and passed Zoey's letters on to me, and then later made me promise to take care of her when I came to ask for his blessing on our marriage.

And now I'd gotten her pregnant.

I experienced the same fear I think every man feels when he tells his wife's father about their first baby. Fathers don't want to think about their daughters having sex with anyone. Not even their husbands.

_Should I be getting ready to run, or...?_

"Billy?" Zoey asked tentatively. "You're going to be a grandpa."

That innocent little statement sent him right over the edge.

The daughter of his deceased best friend telling him, a childless man, that she saw him as a grandfather to her child made tears well up in Billy's faded blue eyes. They ran down his cheeks as he came over and hugged us both.

_Oh thank heavens, he's not going to kill me._

"Congratulations, both of you," he said, clapping me on the back perhaps a  _tad_  too hard.

"Thanks, sir," I replied.

He noticed my sigh of relief and wouldn't stop laughing about it for the rest of our visit.

* * *

"I think that went well, don't you?" Zoey asked as we walked home, arm-in-arm, later that evening.

"Billy didn't kill me, so yes, I think so," I agreed.

Zoey snorted.

"Hey. That wasn't a joke," I told her, with a valiant attempt to be serious. Then I completely ruined it by smiling.

She shivered as she outright laughed this time and cuddled closer against my arm.

It was dark out now, and chilly enough that our breath was visible in the air. I pulled my arm out of Zoey's grip and put it around her shoulders instead, rubbing her arm in an attempt to warm her up. Thankfully we were almost home, taking the short alley that would put us just one street over from our apartment.

"I think I want a sandwich when we get home," Zoey announced suddenly. "I'm craving a Nutella and M&M cookie sandwich. On white bread."

_Now_ I'm  _going to vomit._

"Sounds... interesting," I replied diplomatically. "You're not feeling sick any-?"

I cut myself off, mid-sentence.

I'm not sure what first tipped me off- perhaps my sensitive hearing picked up the shuffling of feet before my conscious self registered the sound. Or maybe it was some primal instinct that warned me that danger was near and set the hair on the back of my neck on end.

I just know that one moment we were alone in the alley, a place we'd walked through dozens- no, _hundreds_ , of times without trouble-

And then we weren't.

Three men slid out of the shadows from the street ahead of us, stepping into the alley and blocking our way. I could see the metallic glint off of the knives they held at the ready in their hands.

I stopped walking and instinctively pulled Zoey in closer against my side. A glance over my shoulder showed me two more men armed with wicked-looking blades behind us.

We were surrounded. Trapped.

_As Alex would say- oh, shit._


	55. Worth Fighting For

**Worth Fighting For**

"H-hank-"

Zoey's voice, barely above a whisper, cracked on my name. I could smell her fear, a sharp painful scent in my nose. Another shiver went through her body, and I knew this time it wasn't from cold.

I hated those men just for frightening her- I wanted to rip them apart simply for that reason. But getting Zoey to safety was of the utmost importance.

I quickly considered our options.

The alleyway we were trapped in was barely wide enough for a car to pass through, and the smooth stucco buildings on either side were four stories tall and windowless. No escape that way.

I debated whether I could clear the men in one jump carrying Zoey, but was afraid to risk it. I wasn't sure if I could make a big leap like that while holding someone, not unless I was Beast. What if I lost my balance, or dropped her? I could hurt Zoey and our baby.

The baby. I knew I couldn't ask Zoey to dissociate herself into heat, either. We'd talked about it and decided it wasn't safe while she was pregnant, for fear that our child hadn't inherited Zoey's immunity to her ability. So that option was out, too.

My observations had taken place within the space of two seconds, but my conclusion was bleak. We were well and truly cornered.

A snarl of frustration tried to fight its way out of my throat, but I clamped it down. My nerves were stretched like a piano wire- just the sight of those knives in the proximity of my wife made the edges of my vision shimmer and a white-hot rage pool deep in my abdomen.

These men had no idea what they were dealing with, cornering a feral mutant with his pregnant mate at his back. I could feel Beast scratching at the back of my head, trying to force his way out.

_Calm. Stay calm, McCoy. Try to talk your way out of this._

"Can I help you gentlemen?" I somehow managed to ask politely.

I angled my body so I could see all five of them at once, pulling Zoey slightly behind me with our backs towards the wall. I knew my movements telegraphed a certainty that this would come to a physical altercation, but fight or no, her safety was my first priority.

"We can start with your wallets," one of them drawled, stepping closer. I couldn't see his face- they were all wearing nylon over their heads- but he sounded like he could still be in his late teens.

It would be just our luck to find the  _one_  set of trouble-making muggers in the entire sleepy town of Salem Center on our way home one night. I just wanted us out of there as quickly as possible.

"Have them," I said coolly. I took my wallet out and tossed it to the boy's feet. "Sweetheart?"

Zoey followed suit, throwing hers down with a tad more force than necessary to indicate her displeasure. I decided I was lucky she hadn't chucked it at the guy's face.

"If that's all, we'd like to be going now," I calmly stated. "We don't want any trouble."

I took a tentative step forward, to see if they would budge. The moment any of them did I planned to scoop Zoey up and make a break for it.

But no. The man who'd spoken before brought his knife up higher, and the others followed suit.

"We're not done here," he retorted, with a humorless laugh. "My friends and I want a taste of that little redheaded piece of ass. You can have what's left of her after we're done."

"You can go to hell and stay there," Zoey hissed, making our assailants chuckle.

"Oooh, a feisty one!" one of them jeered.

Two of the other men took a step forward, knives still in hand, and it was at that point that I snapped. By threatening Zoey, they had done the one thing guaranteed to make me lose control of myself. The all-consuming fury I experienced now, with Zoey- and our baby- in danger, made the jealous anger I'd felt towards Jim the slimy salesman seem puny and inconsequential.

A warning snarl ripped itself out of my throat and my vision turned red for a second as the change into Beast swept over me. It felt like liquid nitrogen searing my veins, the burn matching that of my rage.

Our foes jumped back in horror, but I didn't care. I wanted to rip them apart. I would  _enjoy_  it. It would feel like justice served after they threatened harm to my wife and unborn child.

"What the hell is  _that_?" one of the men squeaked.

"Just kill him!" Goon Number One snapped.

_"Kill him?" We've skipped some levels here._

The first attacker came at me with his knife at the ready. I was able to block his arm before he could make a downward stabbing motion, and then in the same movement I hit him in the solar plexus with the heel of my other hand. It knocked him to the ground, and there he stayed.

All of the others, with the exception of the group's unofficial spokesman, then tried to jump me at once. It made me frantic to get to Zoey, having that last imbecile unaccounted for.

I easily dodged their attacks- my reflexes were much too fast for them. I disarmed one man by grabbing his wrist and twisting (the bones made a rather satisfying crunching sound), while ducking another's attempt to tackle me, knife out-stretched.

The first I then flung into the alley wall, where he crumpled like a rag doll. The other ended up landing face-first on the ground as his momentum carried him over my back. I saw some of his teeth go flying.

I took the last assailant out by knocking the knife out of his hand and then just outright punching him in the face. He collapsed like a sack of potatoes.

While I was dealing with my three versus one situation, Goon Number One tried to attack Zoey.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her shoot a fireball out of her palm right at his chest before he got less than a few feet away. It was an instinctive action, if the startled look on her face was any indication. The man's shirt caught fire.

_That's my girl._

He screamed and immediately fell to the ground, obviously trying to do the classic "stop, drop, and roll." I finished with my assailants just in time to see Zoey kick him right in the crotch.

_Usually I'm not a proponent of kicking a man when he's down (or in the jewels), but today I'll make an exception._

I hurriedly grabbed our wallets off the ground. Then I snatched Zoey up- before she'd even recovered balance from her kick- and  _ran_ , without looking back.

There were few people out on this chilly evening, so I hopefully wouldn't have to read about a blue, miniature version of King Kong carrying his very own Ann Darrow and roaming the streets of Salem Center in the morning papers.

Even if someone saw us, I didn't care. I didn't stop running until I'd flown up the stairs and slammed the door to our apartment shut behind us.

I crossed our living room in three strides and set Zoey down on the couch. I knelt in front of her, cradling her beautiful, precious face and trying to assess for damage or shock.

It took me a moment to realize her hands were brushing along my face, too. Like she was as worried about me as I was for her.

"Are you ok?" We both asked at the exact same time.

I think we both would've laughed in any other circumstance. As it was, we gave each other wan smiles.

"Hank, I'm fine," Zoey assured me. One of her hands went to her stomach. "Both of us. I promise."

I let out a sigh of relief and sank down on the floor, my head in her lap. Her fingers started to stroke my hair while I tried to calm myself down. It was difficult, because every time I closed my eyes I saw Zoey encircled by armed men, knives raised. What could have happened, if I hadn't been able to protect her-

I'd never been so glad for what I was than in that moment. My powers as a feral mutant gave me the ability to defend the woman I loved from harm, for which I was profoundly grateful.

"You let them see you," Zoey murmured suddenly. "And I used my powers, too."

"I don't think we need to worry about those hoodlums going to the authorities," I mused. "Not unless they want to explain why they were attacking random passerby in the first place."

Of course, they didn't have to go to the police to get us in trouble. The Friends of Humanity would be thrilled to hear of this escapade, and wouldn't care that the mutants in this incident weren't the aggressors. The FOH just wanted to punish mutant kind for the crime of existing.

_Those buffoons didn't know who we are,_ I reasoned to myself. _We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If we're careful we'll never see them again, and it won't matter if they go to the FOH or not. They won't find us. They_ can't  _find us._

"No more walking to the cafe, ok?" I said quietly. "We'll drive from now on."

"Ok," Zoey agreed.

"I won't let anything happen to you," I promised her earnestly after a moment, lifting my head so I could see her eyes.

She smiled beatifically and raised one of my hands to her lips to kiss the palm. "I know. You're my 'knight in shining armor' and 'Prince Charming' all in one."

Her complete trust in me was humbling. I would do  _anything_  to make sure her faith in me wasn't misplaced, to ensure her safety. I knew without a doubt that I would protect Zoey and our child to my last breath. I would go down fighting if I had to.

The irony of a fervent pacifist and unassuming, mild-mannered nerd calmly contemplating violence did not escape me.

_Perhaps I was never a pacifist at all,_ I thought as I pulled Zoey in for a kiss. My lips drifted down and pressed against her tummy.  _Maybe... maybe I was just waiting for something worth fighting for._


	56. The Note

**The Note**

"Livie, aren't you a little too old to be participating in the Easter egg hunt?" I asked tentatively.

It was Easter Sunday, and the annual school egg hunt was about to begin. Alex, Gwen, and some of the older students like Piotr Rasputin had woken up at dawn to hide plastic eggs with money and candy inside all over the school grounds for the occasion.

Some of the hiding places were easily found, but others were slightly ridiculous. From my spot next to Zoey on a picnic blanket I spied an egg balanced on a branch over halfway up a twenty-foot tall tree.

_You'd only find that at a mutant school, I'm sure._

"Nope. You know, Marcy says 'you're only as old as you feel,'" Olivia replied in a lofty tone, clutching her egg basket. "How old are you now, Uncle Hank? Twenty-eight going on fifty?"

I scowled at her, utterly stone-faced, but Zoey betrayed me by giggling right along with her niece.

_Oh my traitorous love, why hath thee forsaken me?_

"What? She has a point," my wife said when I gave her a reproachful look. "You've been so worried lately, darling, you're going to make your hair turn gray before you're thirty."

I sighed. It had been a week and a half since the attempted mugging, and ever since then I hadn't been able to relax. I didn't usually believe in premonitions or anything of that sort, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was coming. Those punks attacking us was just the beginning.

Zoey tried to assure me that everything would be alright, joking that my protective instincts were turning me into a worried mother hen. But I couldn't help it.

Even the fact that our paper on the causative link between cancer and heterocyclic amines had just been published in that month's edition of  _Scientific American_ didn't cheer me up, though Zoey was understandably ecstatic. She'd never had her work circulated in such a public forum before.

"And besides," Olivia said now. "I'm on a mission for Auntie."

"What sort of mission?" I asked curiously, glancing over at Zoey.

"Chocolate acquisition. I'm going for the Easter Trifecta," Zoey replied seriously, like it was an actual concept. "Chocolate, deviled eggs, and ham."

_Please don't tell me you want those things in a sandwich._

Her pregnancy cravings had thus far been comprised of basically anything (though preferably something sweet) that could be stuck between two pieces of white bread. Last night dinner was a mashed potato sandwich, dessert was an M&M and peanut butter sandwich, and this morning breakfast was a biscuit sandwich- something that I found to be a little redundant. I mean, why did she need a bread product between  _more_  bread?

But I kept my mouth shut and made whatever she wanted, anyway.

"So we have a deal," Olivia explained. "I get the cash eggs, Auntie gets the candy. It's a win-win."

"Sweetheart, if you want candy I can go buy you some," I patiently told Zoey.

"But it's Easter and everything's closed," she replied, pouting. "And besides..."

Her expression turned sheepish, her eyes darting over to her niece. "Can't we just pretend for a day that Livie is seven again?"

_Ah ha. Your real motivation is finally revealed._

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I'm right here and can hear you, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but-" Zoey's eyes suddenly became over-bright, to my alarm. "You're getting so grown up, and- I just want you to stay a little girl forever."

And then she burst in to tears.

Olivia and I exchanged looks of horror, for a moment utterly at a loss of what to do. This was our first encounter with wild pregnancy mood swings.

"Apologize,  _now_ ," I mouthed to Olivia, pulling Zoey into my arms before she turned into a puddle of tears.

She started really crying now, sobbing into my chest like it was the end of the world. I made soothing sounds and stroked her hair, awkwardly trying to comfort her.

Olivia made a face at me, but still made an attempt.

"Um, I'm sorry that- I'm getting older, Auntie?" she said uncertainly. "I can't really help it."

Zoey cried harder.

I gave Olivia a disapproving look. She could do better than that.

"Just think though- soon you'll have your very own baby to watch grow up," she offered brightly.

Zoey stopped crying immediately. "Th-that's true."

Olivia and I both sighed in relief as Zoey pulled away from me and started wiping her eyes. But the respite was short-lived, because as soon as her face was clean Zoey gave each of us murderous glares.

"But how do  _you_  know about the baby, Livie?" she asked. Her suspicious eyes were fastened on me.

_Uh oh. Talk fast, McCoy._

"It wasn't my fault," I said defensively. "She read my mind because she was worried about you."

"Way to throw me under the bus, Uncle Hank," Olivia muttered. "I'm sorry, Auntie. Congratulations, though! I'm so happy for you!"

She leaned in and hugged her aunt, who melted immediately. Zoey could never stay angry at the people she loved for long. It just wasn't in her nature to hold onto a grudge, pregnancy hormones or not.

"Thanks, Livie," Zoey said as she pulled away and cuddled against me. "And I'm sorry for glaring at you, darling. And for getting your shirt all wet."

"It's fine," I assured her, kissing her curls. "Being a Kleenex is in the job description."

I wrapped an arm around her, holding her close as she giggled. My hand drifted down to her stomach, where there was just the tiniest hint of a bump now.

"I wish my parents loved each other like you guys do," Olivia said suddenly, fiddling with her basket again.

Zoey and I exchanged surprised glances.

I wondered for a moment if she felt a twinge of  _deja vu,_ remembering the way Olivia baldly parroted her father's opinions about education for females in the cafe so many years ago. It was the reason I started buying Zoey's mochas for her in the first place...

But now we were faced with another uncomfortable statement that we needed to address diplomatically, just like Zoey had back then. We still made it a policy not to demean Olivia's parents in front of her.

"Livie, every couple is different," Zoey said tentatively. "Not everyone is as affectionate and-"

Olivia shook her head and sighed. "Whenever I go visit them I can see it. I think Mama blames me for being stuck with Daddy, and Daddy- he's so  _mean_  to her. I wish she would leave him. I wish you and Uncle Hank were my parents."

These were not the complaints of an angsty teenager. These were the heartfelt admissions of a young woman who had grown up too fast and had had a front row seat- exacerbated by her telepathic ability- to the dysfunctional relationship between her parents. Nothing could take away what she'd seen, what she'd felt because of their mistakes.

_Zoey, please say something. I've got nothing._

"I wish you didn't have to see that," Zoey said quietly. She reached out and took Olivia's hands in hers, looking straight into her niece's eyes. "But Livie, don't think for a  _second_ that their problems are your fault. Some things are just the way they are, ok? And I don't think you can do anything to fix what's broken between them. Just know that your uncle and I are always here for you, and we both think you're a spectacular person. Right, Hank?"

"Definitely," I agreed cheerfully. "Our favorite niece, hands down."

Olivia gave us a watery smile and rolled her eyes. "I'm your _only_ niece, but thanks."

I shrugged. "Lack of competition doesn't change the facts."

She hugged both of us at once before standing and picking up her egg basket. I could practically  _see_  the effort she made to shake off her vulnerable moment.

_Hmm. Wonder where she got that from?_  I joked to myself, glancing down at Zoey.

"Love you guys," Olivia said, blowing air kisses. "Auntie, I'm off to go get you chocolate."

Once she was out of earshot, Zoey slumped against me with her head in hands.

"Zoey, you handled that perfectly," I told her, rubbing her back soothingly.

"You really think so?"

"Yes," I replied honestly. I turned her face towards mine, so I could see her eyes. "You're going to be a wonderful mother, you know."

And then I pulled her in for a kiss.

* * *

That Friday I was in a good mood as I left the Institute.

For a second week in a row there had been no sign of the thugs who'd attacked us as we drove home from the cafe the night before. Zoey's morning sickness had yet to make a reappearance, so we had hopes that it had officially passed.

And we'd decided to officially announce her pregnancy that night at dinner with our friends.

So there was an extra pep in my step as I entered our building that afternoon, primroses for Zoey in hand. I even smiled and said "hello" to Ms. Peterson when I saw her in the lobby.

Rather than returning my greeting, her expression turned sour.

"Just because your wife's the landlord, doesn't mean it's alright for you two to make all that ruckus upstairs," she scolded.

"Beg your pardon?" I asked blankly.

"Earlier- it sounded like there was a circus going on up there," Ms. Peterson explained, glaring at me. "I've half a mind to call the police-"

_What?_

Icy cold dread suddenly gripped my insides, eclipsing all other sensation.

I darted away, taking the stairs two at a time and not caring one jot if that crazy cat woman saw my superhuman speed or complained of my rudeness.

Our apartment door was hanging open at the top of the stairs.

_No. No no no-_

I burst inside, dimly noting the scent of blood and smoke in the air as I frantically looked for Zoey.

The kitchen was a disaster area- scorch marks and blood streaks all over the place, a dented frying pan thrown haphazardly on the floor, and the makings of a grilled cheese sandwich scattered on the counter top.

But no Zoey.

There are no suitable words in the English language for my horror in that moment.

My eyes zeroed in on a note, propped up against our telephone. I snatched it up eagerly, praying for some glimmer of hope-

_"We have your wife, mutant scum._

_867-5309_

_Call this number if you ever want to see her alive again."_

My heart stopped beating.

_Zoey..._


	57. Phone Call

**Phone Call**

For a moment I stood frozen, staring down at the piece of paper in my hand. Such an inconsequential thing, containing such crushing words.

_"If you ever want to see her alive again."_

Zoey's life was on the line. If I didn't play this right my wife and unborn child would  _die_. My brain couldn't even begin to comprehend never seeing or holding Zoey again, never even getting to hear our baby's heartbeat.

What I felt was like the numb agony of a third degree burn, or an impossibly deep laceration. A wound too profound for my seared nerves to process.

_Who did this? How? Why?_

The questions prompted me into action. I dialed the number with shaking fingers, trying to maintain my composure.

Someone picked up the phone after one ring.

_"Yes, mutant?"_ The speaker's voice was male, and disdain was clear in his tone.

"Where is she?" I demanded. "Who are you, and why have you done this? Let me speak to my wife."

_"Tut tut, monster. You're in no position to be making demands,"_ the man replied.  _"You're going to do exactly as I say, if you ever want to see her again."_

I took a deep breath.

"What do you want from me?"

_"You appear to be quite the accomplished scientist."_

"Yes. And?"

_"And I heard of your little run-in with some associates of mine two weeks ago. It's clear that you have some sort of mutation-suppressing formula,"_  he explained.

"My mutation is shape-shifting," I lied immediately. "I don't know what you're talking about, and I can't help you. Now let my wife go."

_"Our research has been meticulous, Dr. Henry McCoy. There's no sense in lying,"_  the man snapped.  _"We know you're no shape-shifter."_

Research? What sort of research had they done on me? To what purpose? How had this man even found my name?

I shook my head to clear it- these were unimportant questions. The "how's" were meaningless at the moment. What mattered was getting Zoey back.

"You still haven't told me why you've taken my wife," I said through clenched teeth.

_"Leverage, of course. And motivation. Let's cut to the chase- obviously, you're the only one that's come close to getting a handle on this genetic abomination. So, simply put, you're going to make a cure for the X-gene within the next three days, or my friends and I are going to mail your wife back to you in pieces."_

My hand gripped the phone receiver so tightly the plastic began to crack.

"Even if I  _do_  have a mutation-suppressing formula, it doesn't mean I can cure the X-gene," I spat into the phone. "There's nothing  _to cure_. It's not a disease, or even a genetic disorder. It's just a heritable trait, like-"

_"It's a disease that turns people into freaks,"_  the man retorted.  _"I'd advise you to figure it out, monster. Your wife did not come quietly, and some of my men are looking for revenge. I can't promise more than her life at this point. And even that is forfeit if you don't comply."_

"If you hurt one hair on her head-" I snarled.

_"You'll do what?"_  he challenged.

I had no reply. This man held all the cards in this game, and he knew it. My only answer was a bristling growl, an expression of my impotent rage.

_"That's what I_   _thought,"_  he chuckled cruelly. _"You better get started- the clock is ticking."_

"Let me speak to my wife first," I said in a barely controlled tone.

_"Fine."_

For a moment all I could hear was the sound of some shuffling and a door opening.

And then Zoey's voice.

_"Hank?"_

My heart sank. I think until the moment I heard her talking on the other end of the line I'd been holding out hope that somehow that man had been lying, that they hadn't taken Zoey away from me.

_This can't be happening._

"Zoey," I croaked past the lump in my throat. "Are you ok?"

She didn't answer my question. Instead, Zoey began to speak in French so quickly I could barely understand her.

_"You can't do what they want you to, Hank. The Friends of Humanity will use it as a weapon against mutants, they'll use it to take everyone's powers-"_

I heard a sharp slapping sound, followed by a gasp of pain from Zoey.

"Zoey!"

_"That's enough, if you ain't gonna speak English,"_  a male snapped- a different man from the one who answered the phone.

_"Parle à Gris! Gris! Gris!"_  I heard her shout, though she got fainter as whoever was holding the phone took it away from her.  _"Don't touch me-"_

A metallic door slammed, and her voice cut off.

"Zoey!" I choked out helplessly.

The wetness on my cheeks startled me. Tears- there were tears coming out of my eyes.

I took a deep, shuddering breath to steady myself, but it was hopeless. Listening to someone hurting Zoey had completely shaken me, which was probably just as they planned. They wanted to give me a taste of how far they'd go, if I didn't give in and follow orders.

_"What'd she say to you?"_  the original speaker hissed into the phone.

"S-she told me not to agree to your demands," I whispered brokenly.

Among other things, but I would ponder that later. Later, when I could think straight again...

_"Huh. I didn't think a girl with that much spunk had a death wish,"_  he callously mused.

"Don't hurt her," I growled.

_"That depends on if you'll do what I asked."_

"I-I'll try."

_"'Trying' won't be good enough if you want to see her again,"_  the man said coldly.  _"We'll be in touch. Three days, monster. The clock starts now."_

And then he hung up.

I dropped the phone, which promptly fell apart from all the abuse it had just taken.

My worst nightmares had become reality. The Friends of Humanity, that group of murderous, ignorant bigots, had Zoey. And unless I somehow pulled off a miracle within the next three days, they would kill her.

If I  _did_  somehow find a way to completely suppress the expression of the X-gene, I would be handing over a weapon of the worst order to mutant kind's biggest enemies. Zoey was right- they would weaponize the "cure" and use it to destroy all of us.

But Zoey wouldn't expect me to allow her to sacrifice herself- and our child- for the good of mutants everywhere. She had to know I wouldn't let her die, that I would do whatever I could to bring her and the baby home safely.

Of course she did. So there had to be a reason she said what she did.

My mind raced, trying to piece it together. Thinking logically was the only way to keep myself from falling into a paralyzing pit of despair.

And then it hit me. Zoey had given me a clue, purposely speaking in French so they wouldn't understand it and possibly cut off this avenue of inquiry by giving forewarning.

_"Parle à Gris,"_ she'd said.  _"Gris."_

_"Speak to gray."_

Gray. Gray, as in Grey?

Nicholas Grey.

It clicked into place. If Grey was a member of the FOH, all it would've taken was those punks who attacked us showing up to a meeting and giving our descriptions. Zoey's hair was so unique, it would be easy to identify her.

_Damnation. I should've known such an absolute_ cretin  _was a member of the FOH._

I was like a man possessed, running down the stairs and to my car without any further thought. Thoughts like "is this really a good idea?" or "perhaps I should call Charles for some back up?" simply didn't cross my mind.

Zoey had told me to go speak to Nicholas for a reason, and I would follow her instructions to the letter.

Thankfully there were no police cars in sight as I pulled an illegal turn and drove like a bat out of hell to the Dubois mansion. I wouldn't have stopped for their sirens anyway, but I didn't need the extra aggravation.

Zoey and I had rarely come to visit this house over the years- partly because of the unpleasant occupants of the building, but also because it made Zoey sad.

"Too many memories," she'd told me once.

Remembering how the happy times spent here with her father were now over depressed her. It no longer felt like a place of welcome in her mind, so I'd readily agreed to avoid this place. I disliked my in-laws, but hated seeing Zoey upset even worse.

My knock on the front door was loud and incessant, so when Chloe Grey answered she was even more irritable than usual.

"What do you wa-?" she began to say.

And then she caught sight of my expression, which I could imagine looked rather crazed at this point. Honestly, I was surprised I'd been able to stop myself from completely flying to pieces and turning into Beast after all of this.

"What's wrong?" Chloe asked, with an ounce more concern than she normally showed me.

"I need to speak to Nicholas," I told her, barely bothering with politeness. "He-"

_He_  strolled out from deeper in the house at that moment, probably wondering what all the commotion at the door was about.

There was a heavy, fresh-looking bandage wrapped around his arm. My intuition flared- the FOH man had claimed Zoey did not come quietly. Perhaps Nicholas' bandage was covering a wound she gave him during the struggle?

_That means he not only sold Zoey out, he_ helped  _them kidnap her._

Nicholas' face turned ghost white when he saw me at the door, like I was a figment of his imagination risen to haunt him over his complicity in my wife's disappearance. His culpability was written all over his expression.

_I see you, you guilty piece of excrement._

Fear, anxiety, hesitation- it all fled when I set eyes on Nicholas, only to be replaced by a cold, unrelenting fury so potent I could taste it like madness on my tongue.

This was the man responsible for Zoey's deadly predicament, though I knew not the how's and why's as of yet. I wanted to  _destroy_  him. To rip him to pieces and paint the walls with his blood.

It felt like the world had narrowed into a single focal point, one man to settle all of my savage hatred, malice, and rage upon.

"You," I snarled.


	58. Breaking Free

**Breaking Free**

Just the sight of him made my self-control snap like an over-stretched rubber band.

I had slid past Chloe and darted across the room before either of them could even react. And as I moved, I turned into Beast.

By the time I reached Nicholas Grey and grabbed him by the throat I was a fanged, growling creature- acting every bit the monster I looked. He wet himself when I slammed him against the wall and snarled in his face. I dimly noted Chloe's horrified screams coming from behind me.

"Where is she?" I demanded.

"I don't know what you're-" Grey began to say, but I squeezed his throat tighter. His hands tore ineffectually at mine, trying to loosen my grip.

"Don't lie to me," I snapped. "I know you have something to do with this. Now tell me everything you know before I rip your spinal cord out through your mouth."

"Put my husband down, you monster!" Chloe shrieked. "What  _are_  you?"

She ran over with her fists raised, but I caught her wrist in a firm (but gentle) grip with my free hand.

"I'm a mutant, just like your sister is," I told her through gritted teeth, noting the shock on her face. "And I'll put him down when he tells me where he and the Friends of Humanity took Zoey after they broke into our home and  _kidnapped_  her."

The fight immediately drained out of Chloe, only to be replaced by dismayed consternation as her eyes darted back and forth between her husband and I.

"I don't believe you," she whispered. "How-?"

"Ask him where he got the wound on his arm," I challenged her, dropping her wrist. I turned my attention back to Nicholas, giving him a little shake. "You didn't expect her to put up such a fight, did you? But then, you've spent  _years_  underestimating Zoey Dubois. Now  _tell me where she is._ "

He didn't answer- though to be fair he was also turning a little blue.

_Oops._

I loosened my grip just a fraction.

"Wait- m-my sister is some sort of  _freak_? Like you?" Chloe asked, with evident horror.

_Really? I tell you your husband kidnapped your sister, and that's what you focus on? Zoey's right, why do we bother with you people?_

"Auntie is not a freak!" a young girl's voice cried out from the top of the stairs.

The sound made my heart sink down to my toes. I knew who it was before I even turned towards her.

I cursed myself for forgetting that it was a Friday, and therefore likely that Olivia had come to visit her parents.

"Livie," I whispered, feeling somewhat ashamed of myself.

I didn't want her to see me this way, acting so out-of-control and threatening her father. She'd never even seen my Beast form, let alone witnessed me behaving like this. Her innocent presence weakened my resolve and took away most of the force behind my anger towards Nicholas.

Because no matter what the Grey's thought of me, I knew I wasn't a monster. The man Zoey loved, the uncle Olivia looked up to was not a savage beast, no matter what his form. I couldn't let these dire circumstances change who I was.

When this was over, I wanted to still be able to look my wife and niece in the eyes without feeling shame for the things I had done to bring Zoey home.

I released Nicholas with a growl, allowing him to collapse to the ground and catch his breath. Olivia came down the stairs in a hurry with a very determined air.

"Olivia, go to your room," Chloe ordered shakily, kneeling down next to her husband. "This is grown up business."

"No," Olivia replied sharply. "This is  _my_  business, Mama. Don't call Auntie and Uncle Hank freaks, because-"

"Livie-" I began, putting my hand on her shoulder. She didn't flinch away from me, despite my current appearance.

_Don't tell them,_  I mentally pleaded. _We've tried to protect you from this-_

"No, Uncle Hank. We should've told them a long time ago. Maybe if we had this wouldn't have happened," Olivia announced, taking a deep breath. "Mama, Daddy, I'm a mutant. Just like Uncle Hank and Aunt Zoey. It's a part of who I am, and I can't change that. I don't even  _want_  to. I'm sure you didn't mean for this to happen to Auntie, right Daddy? Just please tell Uncle Hank where she is so he can bring her home."

For a moment suspended in time, all four of us were motionless. The air was heavier than the atmosphere on Venus as Olivia's words sank in for her parents.

I had vague hopes that hearing that his only child was a member of the race he apparently hated enough to join an organization dedicated to its eradication would soften Grey's heart towards mutants. I waited on tenterhooks, hoping. Maybe he would even willingly tell me what I needed to know to get Zoey back...

"Olivia," Chloe murmured, standing up slowly. "It's ok, darling."

Nicholas sprang to his feet. "No it is _not_ , Chloe," he snapped.

_Damnation._

His wife jumped, startled by his vehemence. She instantly cowered away from him.

"Our daughter is some kind of freak, just like the rest of the mutant scum. Just like this  _monster,_ " Nicholas added, pointing at me.

_Hey. This monster can hear you, you reprobate._

"This- this is  _your_  fault. You come from a family of freaks," he hissed.

And then Nicholas' hand flashed out to slap his wife across the face. The manner in which Chloe flinched told me this wasn't the first time he hit her.

_Well, not this time._

Before his blow connected, I grabbed his wrist with my left hand and punched him out cold with my right. Nicholas slumped back down to the floor, in a puddle of his own urine where he belonged.

"Still a coward," I muttered.

Chloe started shaking, her eyes darting between Nicholas' prone form and myself like she was debating who she should be more afraid of at the moment. But then her gaze focused on Olivia.

"Oh Lord, what am I going to do?" she whispered. Tears sprang to her eyes. "Olivia- I'm so sorry-"

"It's ok, Mama," Olivia assured her, though she still sounded sad. "If Daddy's so mean to you, and he can't love me anymore because I'm a mutant, we should leave him. Together."

"I can't, darling," Chloe replied, shaking her head. "Where would we go? I don't have a job, and I didn't even finish high school. Your father..."

Her expression hardened.

"Thank goodness  _you're_  getting an education. That way a man can never trap you this way."

"You're not trapped, Chloe," I supplied. "Zoey and I will help you. But first I need to  _bring her home_."

"But how-?"

"I'm on it," Olivia interjected, bending down to touch her father's forehead. "Give me a minute."

"She's a tactile telepath," I explained after seeing Chloe's puzzlement. "Livie can read people's thoughts and project her own if she's touching them."

"And Zoey?"

I had to bite back a snarl of impatience. I didn't want to be standing here explaining these things to Chloe. I was itching for action, to actually be  _doing_  something to get my wife back.

"She can generate and manipulate fire," I explained.

Chloe looked like she was about to ask more, but Olivia stood up at that moment, looking shaken.

"I picked up some other stuff, but he doesn't know where Auntie is," she announced dejectedly.

I swore under my breath, but quickly regained my composure.

_There are other ways of finding her,_  I told myself.

I had to stay positive or I'd lose my mind.

"Ok," I said audibly, bending down to pick Nicholas up by his shirt collar. "I have to go. Do you have any duct tape?"

"What?" Chloe asked blankly.

"Uncle Hank's afraid that Daddy will call the people who have Auntie and warn them he's coming to kick their butts," Olivia explained seriously, without any prompting from me. "I'll go get it."

_Still my favorite kid on the planet. My baby doesn't count, because it hasn't been born yet..._

The pain from thinking that my child may never even take its first breath practically knocked me over.

Olivia was back within thirty seconds. And as we duct taped her father's hands and wrists to a chair she told me what she'd discovered about the FOH's designs on us and Nicholas Grey's complicity in their schemes, which was just as I suspected.

She cried as she told me how Zoey had fought back, cracking one man's skull with a frying pan and giving everyone else burns of varying severity. But in the end Zoey was overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

_And her hesitation to kill or permanently maim anyone with her powers_ , I thought grimly.

Despite his enthusiastic cooperation, "management" at the FOH had declined to tell Grey where they were taking his sister-in-law. This was a wound to his pride, so he came home to drink a beer and have a good sulk-

"Until you found him and scared the piss out of him," Olivia concluded finally.

"Watch your language," I reprimanded her absently, still deep in thought over all she'd told me. "I have to go."

"Yes," she agreed.

Olivia gave me a hug, much to her mother's bewilderment. I guess I was still too frightening for Chloe, though at least she wasn't screaming for the police or anything like that. Perhaps she was still in shock.

Chloe had sat silently through her daughter's explanation, looking horrified over the things her husband was involved in. She'd obviously had no idea.

_I think what we've got here is a failure to communicate._

Olivia noticed her mother's flinch as she pulled away from hugging me.

"Mama," she admonished. "Don't be scared of him. He just saved you, remember?"

Chloe still appeared to be rather nonplussed.

"I'm surprised you weren't afraid of me," I muttered truthfully to Olivia.

"Why would I be?" she retorted. "You're still my Uncle Hank. Even if you look like the Cookie Monster right now."

Her words made my chest tighten up, bringing so many memories of Zoey to mind.

"You sound like your aunt," I whispered.

"Auntie's a very smart lady," Olivia replied seriously.

She grabbed my hand.

_Please, bring her home safely._ Please _._

My thoughts back to her were a promise.

_I will._


	59. Blame

**Blame**

I was lost in thought as I drove to the Institute, mulling over everything Olivia had told me. I couldn't calm down enough to shift out of my Beast form- my focus was nonexistent as I fought off a mind-numbing sense of panic and guilt.

Our entire existence had been turned upside down by one single event, as if someone had tipped a domino over and sent our whole lives crashing down around us.

And it was all my fault.

The father of one of the boys who attacked Zoey and I two weeks ago was an FOH member. When his son came home talking about a man who turned into a monster and a girl who threw fireballs when they tried to steal their wallets, the father- rather than punishing his kid for assaulting people, like a  _good_  parent would do- took him to a FOH meeting where he shared his story. Nicholas Grey happened to be there and heard the description of a tall, bespectacled man and a small woman with iridescent red hair. He recognized us immediately and felt no compunction about telling his fellow bigots our names.

I could only imagine what a proud moment Grey saw that as, considering his over-inflated sense of his own self-importance. Finally, he would get the attention he felt he deserved.

With that information FOH started to dig, bringing their considerable resources to bear on discovering all they could about Zoey and I. They read everything- our recent paper on HCA's and cancer, our theses, and all of the other work I'd published in the past, including papers from my stint with the CIA. And worst of all, they got their hands on newly declassified documents about the Cuban Missile Crisis. That was the most damning piece of information out of everything.

From there they connected the dots, using powers of deduction I had thought were  _way_  out of league for the average FOH member: mainly, that I was once a normal enough looking young man working for the CIA, until the day I  _wasn't_  and showed up on some Cuban beach looking like an ape who fell into a vat of blue dye. And then I disappeared from sight for almost six years, only to reappear in public afterwards seemingly "cured." I had obviously been up to something during that interval of time.

It was a leap, I'll admit, but one they thought worth making on the chance that they were right about me, that I could be the one to develop a cure for the X-gene. Even if they were wrong, my work was more advanced than most geneticists of the day. It gave them high hopes that I could find a "cure."

The only thing they needed was something to motivate me into betraying mutant kind. So earlier today, Nicholas Grey brought over five of his friends and knocked on the door to our apartment, to obtain the ultimate leverage: Zoey.

It was a win-win for the FOH. Even if I failed to deliver and they killed her, at least it would be one less mutant defiling the planet with her existence...

My hands clenched at the thought, poking holes in the leather covering the car's steering wheel as I gripped it too tightly.

_Oops. Zoey will be upset about that._

_If_  I could save her.

I couldn't breathe for the ache in my chest, thinking of the possibility that I may never see my wife again. How would I even live with myself, knowing how I failed her?

_This is all my doing in the first place,_ I thought bitterly.

I lost control in public. Even though I had been severely provoked, if it weren't for me revealing Beast none of this would've happened. And I'd also been over-confident about the FOH's inability to find us, and failed to keep an eye on Nicholas Grey even though I knew he bore us a great deal of ill will.

And worst of all, I created serums designed to manipulate my own genes.

If only I'd had some self-confidence growing up, I would've never tried to develop the formula from Raven's genes that caused my second mutation. And if I had then been content with my Beast form, I wouldn't have devised this other serum to suppress it.

I  _still_  didn't stop taking the drug, even after I showed Zoey my other side and she told me she loved me no matter what form I took. A part of me had clung to the desire to be "normal," to avoid the fear and disgust people would feel when they saw me.

And now Zoey's life was in danger, because of  _my_  inability to be comfortable in my own skin, to completely accept myself the way I was.

It was clear that I would be a target from now on, as long as my mutation-suppressing serum survived. If I continued to use it, word of its existence was sure to spread among the various anti-mutant organizations. More people would come for it, and they wouldn't be scrupulous about using Zoey- or our child- to force me to give in. There was only one way to protect them.

_If I can get Zoey back home safely, I'll never take that serum again,_  I vowed to myself. _I'll destroy it, and the formula, and live my life as Beast for the rest of my days._

It was a sacrifice I would gladly make, as long as I had her with me.

* * *

Sean (holding Theresa), Maeve, Alex and Gwen were waiting in the garage when I pulled up to the Institute, barely bothering to turn my car off.

Our plans to tell our friends about Zoey's pregnancy tonight seemed like a distant memory now. Life had become a living hell in a matter of an hour or two.

Everyone's jaws dropped when they saw me head for the door without speaking to anyone. I probably looked like a crazy person- er, monster. Something was obviously wrong if I was in such a state, walking around as Beast. The circumstance was so rare the ladies had never even seen my second mutation before.

"Hank, what's going on?" Sean asked, with obvious concern.

"I need to speak to Charles."

"He's on one of his weird little chess dates with Magneto," Alex replied as I passed him. "Why, what's up?"

I cursed under my breath and spun on my heel to look at all of them, my closest friends. _Zoey's_ closest friends.

The words tasted like acid as I spoke. "Zoey is being held hostage by the FOH. They're going to kill her if I don't come up with a 'cure' to the X-gene within the next three days."

"What?!"

"That's bullshit," Alex spat. "You can't do it. Think of what the FOH would  _do_  with something like that."

"I-I thought being a mutant isn't a disease," Gwen stammered, horrified. "Zoey told me it's just like having blonde hair or blue eyes."

"She was right," I replied painfully.

"Then  _how_ -?"

"We'll have to go get her," Sean said simply.

He handed baby Theresa to his wife, an expression of determination on his face.

"I'll go try to raise Charles on the radio," he announced. As he passed me he patted my shoulder. "We'll get your wife back, Beast."

And then he was gone.

"I don't get it," Alex muttered. "Beast- not to be a dick or anything, but why hasn't Zoey pulled her little disappearing act? Can't she get out of this on her own?"

I took a deep, shuddering breath, willing myself to share the news. This was supposed to be a happy moment, a cause for joy and celebration. We were going to tell everyone together...

"She would've, yes," I agreed quietly. "But she's pregnant, and we don't know if the baby would survive her doing that. She won't risk it."

For a moment the silence was deafening, like this was a horror too profound for words.

"Oh, dear God," Maeve whispered, clutching Theresa closer to her chest.

Gwen let out a choked sob. "All those weeks of her being sick- I didn't even think that she could be pregnant," she cried. "Why didn't she say anything?"

"We were going to tell all of you tonight," I explained brokenly, looking away. The raw outburst of emotion was making it difficult to keep my own feelings from careening out of control. "We waited until she was farther along, and then-"

_And then all this happened._

"We'll get her back, Beast," Alex said firmly, with a confidence that suggested he was not only trying to convince me, but also himself. "Let's go suit up. Gwen, Maeve, stay here at the mansion until we get back."

They nodded mutely in reply, leaving us to prepare for action.

Sean joined Alex and I as we were going through pre-flight checks on the Blackbird, already in his flight suit. He assured us that Charles was on his way back to the Institute.

The jet was my pride and joy, my ultimate achievement in engineering. After the destruction of the original prototype in Cuba Charles gave me free reign to improve upon the design, and now it was better than ever.

But today I felt no flicker of anticipation at the prospect of flying my invention. I was too worried about what was happening to my wife as we dawdled, waiting for Charles to get home and find her using Cerebro.

What would they do to her? Images of faceless men beating Zoey, bruising her and cutting into her delicate skin with cruel knives flitted through my mind. What if they hurt the baby- or worse?

The thoughts made my hackles raise, the fur on my arms and neck bristling with barely-suppressed anger. I was morally opposed to murder, but I might make an exception for those monsters.

* * *

The wait felt like hours, but was truly only fifteen minutes or so.

Charles came hurrying into the hallway to Cerebro as quickly as his wheelchair would allow.

_I really should put a turbo speed option on that thing._

Moira entered at his side, but made a beeline for me when she saw me.

"I'm so sorry, Hank," she murmured, pulling me in for an embrace. "You'll get her back though, I know you will."

"Thanks, Moira," I said quietly.

"Everything ready on the jet?" Charles queried grimly. At our nods, he pushed his wheelchair forward. "Very well. Beast, come with me."

I braced myself, afraid of what I would see in that machine when we found my wife.


	60. Inside Cerebro

**Inside Cerebro**

_"Welcome, Professor,"_  the cool female computer voice greeted Charles.

The only audible sound was the quiet whirl of his wheelchair and the soft hiss of the doors sliding shut behind us as we entered Cerebro, leaving the others in the hallway.

"We'll find her, Beast," Charles assured me quietly, slipping on the headset. "Just give me a moment."

I waited with baited breath as thousands of tiny red glowing lights appeared on a map that took up the entire opposite wall. The lights represented the world's mutants, and with Cerebro Charles was connected to all of them at once. It was something that I, as a non-telepath, could barely fathom.

Please _, let him find her._

Small red figures darted around in the huge empty space before us as he flitted from one mutant's mind to another. It was a little jarring, seeing a whirlwind of stranger's faces rushing by.

I was both desperate to find Zoey and terrified of what I would see when we did. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown as it was. If they'd hurt her-

The flurry of random mutants suddenly halted and disappeared, leaving just one.

Zoey.

Alive, and apparently unharmed. My knees almost gave out right then and there, my muscles going limp in relief as I drank her in.

Her image was flickering and indistinct, something I'd never seen in Cerebro before. It was almost like Charles was having a hard time seeing her.

Despite the fuzziness of Zoey's figure, I could tell she was standing, leaning against a wall with her palm pressed against it. There were flames shooting out of her hand.

After a second I realized what Zoey was doing: trying to melt a hole in the wall. My heart swelled with pride over the fact that she was not just sitting there passively waiting for rescue. She was trying to escape on her own.

_My princess may be in distress, but she is_ not  _helpless._

But then, as if to prove me wrong, Zoey slumped to the floor like she was exhausted and curled into a ball. It was all I could do not to reflexively, futilely step forward to catch her incorporeal form.

How much had she used her powers in the past few hours? I remembered that day in the Danger Room, how tired Zoey became after using her abilities for too long. Would the exertion of today hurt the baby?

A fission of panic passed over me at the thought, making it a struggle to stay calm.

"Zoey," Charles murmured aloud, obviously for my benefit.

Her head snapped up.  _"Professor?"_ Zoey's voice rang out in the cavernous expanse of Cerebro.  _"Can you see me?"_

"Yes, barely."

_"Thank God,"_ she whispered, sitting up and hunching over- from relief, I think.  _"Is Hank with you? I sent him to speak to Nick to buy me some time to make this hole in the wall. I set the other room on fire so they stuck me in a steel room and I didn't think you could see past it. The walls are over two feet thick and I think there's some glass or something, too."_

I almost smiled in spite of myself, even under the circumstances. I just had to admire Zoey's ingenuity.

The fact that Charles was having a difficult time seeing her at the moment- even  _with_  the hole she'd made- told me that if I'd come to the Institute immediately after finding the FOH's hostage note we wouldn't have been able to locate Zoey with Cerebro. There would've been no trace of her, anywhere. She'd purposely sent me after Grey to give herself time to make her prison visible.

_And if I managed to maim him in the process, I'm sure she wouldn't have considered it as much of a loss._

Zoey, knowing what a terrible liar I was, had even purposely told me to not give in to the Friends of Humanity's orders on the phone (despite how obvious a point that was) so I had an honest, believable reply when her captor demanded to know what she said in French. That way the true message- to go after Grey- was still kept secret.

_My stars and garters, I love that woman._

"Yes, Hank's right here," Charles assured her. "He can hear you."

_"Hank, I'm so sorry,"_  Zoey said, speaking up to her prison's ceiling.  _"I opened the door for Nick, he said he wanted to talk, but then all those other guys showed up and I couldn't fight them off when they chloroformed me because I was afraid of hurting the baby-"_

She seemed to shiver at the thought.

"Tell her it's fine," I croaked- my throat was too tight with emotion to speak properly. "I know she tried. The only thing that matters is that she and the baby are ok."

"Hank says it's fine, as long as you and the-" Charles paused. "The baby?"

_"Surprise,"_  Zoey told him in a dry tone of voice. I could see a small smile on her face as she pulled her knees to her chest and crossed her arms.  _"We're pregnant."_

"Oh dear," Charles muttered. "Alright. Zoey, save your strength and don't bother opening the wall up anymore. I know where you are now, and we'll be there soon. You'll be alright until we get there, yes?"

_"Should be,"_  she calmly agreed, rubbing her arms absently.  _"I don't think they're going to bother me again- I mean, they know they've got me trapped in here, and I set the guard's shoes on fire last time he tried to come in. And they turn- I mean, I don't see them trying for round five."_

_That's my girl,_ I thought proudly.

The pride I felt was twinged with pain over the fact that Zoey had been forced to resort to such measures in the first place.

"Sit tight," Charles entreated. "We're coming."

_"Ok. Hank, I love you. Don't you dare get yourself hurt when you're storming the castle, you got it?"_

I had to take a deep, calming breath to ease the tension in my stomach.

Zoey seemed to be handling this situation  _much_  better than I was. I couldn't even tell if she was truly unfazed at being held captive or not, because I knew she wasn't above hiding her fear to keep me focused on the task at hand without panicking over her well-being. Zoey was much stronger than I was.

"Just worry about yourself, and our baby," I told her, with much more confidence than I felt. "I love you, Zoey. I'll see you soon, sweetheart."

Charles relayed my message to her and then broke the connection. I hated seeing Zoey's image disappearing into thin air, though I knew it couldn't be helped.

"So, I think congratulations are in order then? Or at least they will be, when we get your wife back?" Charles asked after he took off Cerebro's headpiece.

His tone was light, optimistic, as he turned his wheelchair and gave me an avuncular smile.

"You're going to be a father, Hank."

"We were going to tell everyone tonight," I muttered mournfully. "Together. Not- not this way."

"At least you'll have an interesting story to tell your child when it gets older. It's going to be alright. Now come," Charles ordered gently, starting for the door. "Let's get going."

The others were tensely waiting for us out in the hallway.

"Well?" Alex asked.

"The Friends of Humanity are holding her in an old warehouse building about an hour's drive north from here," Charles replied. He glanced over at his wife. "Moira-"

She silenced him with a kiss. "Be safe, and hurry back."

"You know I will, love."

I turned away from their affectionate goodbyes. I couldn't stand to see it in that moment.

The envy I felt hearkened to the jealousy I used to experience seeing happy couples together, back when I believed I was a creature no one could ever love. I had hoped to never feel that way again, after finding Zoey...

We left Moira standing there and made our way to the Blackbird hangar, which happened to be underneath the school's basketball court.

_Ugh. I hate basketball,_ I thought vaguely, like I did every time I went in there.

None of us spoke as we moved through the subterranean halls under the school, a journey that took at least three minutes.

Three minutes.

So really, Charles had plenty of time to warn the rest of us. He just didn't, I think, because he was worried about how the rest of us X-Men would react to our-  _guests._

There were two people standing underneath the Blackbird, both in poses that suggested impatience. One was wearing a tacky helmet and a cape, of all things. And the other was completely nude.

Erik Lehnsherr, and Raven Darkholme.

"What the  _hell_  are you two doing here?"


	61. On the Way

**On the Way**

The question came from Alex.

He had never really got over the whole "Erik-put-a-bullet-in-Charles'-back" incident. Or the "Raven-left-her-brother-bleeding-on-a-Cuban-beach" thing.

_Never mind the diametrically opposing philosophies on human-mutant relations, or the fact that we've had to go pick up after the messes their Brotherhood has made over the years. Minor details._

Needless to say, Erik and Raven weren't his favorite people.

They weren't mine, either, but I had bigger things to worry about than those two- things like saving my wife and unborn child from mutant-hating bigots.

Erik looked politely amused over Alex's abrupt greeting. "Hello to you too, Havok," he said blandly.

Sean and Alex rounded on Charles wordlessly, waiting for an explanation.

"Erik and Raven-"

Raven opened her mouth to correct him, but hurriedly closed it. Even after almost twelve years she still couldn't get Charles to accept the name she'd given herself.

"-have volunteered to help us rescue Zoey from the Friends of Humanity," Charles explained. "They heard about our predicament when Banshee radioed and want to assist us."

_Sure, and I've got a bridge to sell you._

The other two looked at me, and then at Charles. We were all thinking the same thing: this was pure, classic Charles. Charles the redeemer, Charles the idealist, who believed there was good in everyone and even such a dark soul as Erik could still be saved.

"What's the catch?" Sean demanded suspiciously.

"No catch," Erik replied. "We're just here to save one of our own."

Erik was a master manipulator and my more conscious self warned me not to trust his seemingly altruistic motives. But my gut instinct was telling me I could believe him.

At least partially, anyway. He wouldn't risk his fragile friend/ sometimes-foe relationship with Charles by purposely allowing any harm to come to my wife. He knew better than that.

No, the trouble would stem from Erik's methods of "helping." His approach usually involved murder and widespread mayhem, and we X-Men weren't exactly fans of those things.

Alex let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. "And you wouldn't be too upset if you ended up killing some FOH rednecks in the process," he sneered. "Which is just what they want, to give all of us mutants a bad name-"

"Havok-" Charles cut in, a warning in his tone. "Erik promised to use discretion-"

_I don't have time for this._ Zoey  _doesn't have time._

I interrupted him, striding past the others into the Blackbird without another word. I felt both weary and impatient of the bickering. Erik would do what he was going to do, arguments and promises or not. The only solution was to try to stop him when he inevitably did something crazy.

Until then, having a person who controlled metal on our side as we went after a bunch of gun-toting kooks would be an asset. And right now I wasn't picky about who helped us, as long as we got Zoey back.

Charles broke off and looked at the others expectantly, as if silently asking if they would follow my lead.

With a sigh that was more like a snarl, Alex followed me inside- probably throwing a dirty look at Erik and Raven as he passed. The rest trailed behind him slowly, taking their seats.

_Hey look, it's almost a reunion. We just need Moira to come along,_ I thought glumly.

Somehow I felt much more anxiety and fear  _now_ , as opposed to that fateful day in Cuba over a decade ago. Back then I was trying to save the world- if we didn't succeed, we'd all be dead anyway. With my new second mutation I might not have even considered myself much of a loss. Today I was trying to save my wife. And if I failed her, my life might as well be over.

I couldn't see myself recovering from the loss of Zoey and our baby. It would be like someone extinguished the sun, leaving only darkness and hopeless despair behind. An empty shell of a life not worth living.

"What's with you, Beast?" Alex muttered to me as I sat in the pilot's chair. He looked like I'd betrayed him somehow. "You know we can't trust either of them to not cause trouble."

"I  _don't_  trust them," I admitted, meeting his gaze unwillingly. "But Charles does. And anyway, right now my priority is getting Zoey back, Brotherhood or no."

I sighed and gave my best attempt at a light-hearted expression, though I probably failed miserably. "Besides- I have a feeling that if Erik so much as blinks oddly, you'll blast him to kingdom come with relish," I tried to joke.

Alex nodded slowly, a grim smile coming to his face. "You know I will," he agreed.

He clapped me on the shoulder and went back to his jump seat, next to Sean. Everyone else was already settled except one person.

Imagine my surprise when Raven plopped herself in the co-pilot's chair as I started the Blackbird's engines.

_Ugh. What do_ you _want?_

I stiffened, but said nothing. She would reveal her motives for sitting up here soon enough, and I was sure I wasn't going to like them- especially considering what happened the last time we spoke, over five years ago.

"So," Raven said finally, quietly so the others wouldn't hear. She waited until we were in the air and I couldn't escape or walk away from her. "You're married."

"Yes," I replied succinctly.

"When did that happen?"

"Almost five years ago."

"Why wasn't I invited to your wedding?" she asked, her blue lips pouting.

"I didn't think you warranted an invitation," I told her with stiff formality.

"Well that hurts," Raven retorted, though she didn't sound "hurt" at all. "I would've  _loved_  to see that happy day."

"Is this really the time to discuss such a thing?"

_Wouldn't it be kinder to berate me for not inviting my ex-girlfriend to my wedding_ after  _I get my wife back? Like I need a reminder of that joyous occasion when I might be about to lose her?_

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Raven bite back a smile. Like she was  _enjoying_  the current circumstances.

It made my hair stand on end, the fact that she was mocking me right now. Did she really have no pity at all? No sense of compassion?

"I have to ask- do you still hide from her? Can she stand to have you touch her when you're like this?" Raven gestured towards my blue form, her voice as sweet as poisoned honey.

_Well I guess that answers that question. No, apparently not._

The unbidden image of Zoey underneath me, her face lit with euphoria and her green eyes glowing with passion and desire as she looked up at me while we made love flitted through my mind. Zoey had never flinched away from me, never given any sign that my claws and fangs trailing across her soft skin repulsed her.

Never. Not once.

"Not that it's any of your business, but Zoey loves me no matter what I look like."

"How nice," Raven mused, with feigned sentiment.

She was silent for a long moment. It gave me the hope that this uncomfortable conversation was over, that Raven would leave me alone to my anxiety and ruminations over Zoey.

_But that would be too easy._

"Charles says the FOH took your pretty little wife hostage to get you to make a cure for being a mutant," Raven said suddenly.

Somehow she made the words "pretty little wife" sound like an insult. It immediately made me wary.

"Yes," I agreed uneasily.

"What made them think you could do it?" Raven pressed.

I sighed, because now I knew what she was getting at. And I  _really_  didn't want to talk about it, because I could guess where it would go.

"They did their research on me and realized I had a serum that suppressed my second mutation after some thugs caught us in an alley and I lost control," I muttered.

A pause.

"You realize this wouldn't have happened if you didn't insist on hiding all the time," Raven said. She had the air of someone saying "I told you so." "You say your wife accepts you. Well, if you'd just accepted  _yourself_  in the first place, she wouldn't be-"

"Yes, I know that," I snapped, though not loud enough for everyone in the jet to hear.

The words spilled out, my frustration with this situation boiling over. Usually I wasn't the kind of person who misdirected my anger at other people like that, but it was all just too much for me.

"I'm well aware that it's my fault my wife is being held hostage by a bunch of psychopathic degenerates who hate all of us just for existing," I hissed. "I had a woman who loved me and friends who didn't care what I looked like, but I selfishly wanted all of society to accept me. I didn't want to put Zoey through the stares and the comments from being married to a monster, and now she could  _die_  because of my ego."

I glowered at Raven, daring her to say anything further.

She seemed unperturbed by my outburst, though. Actually, she looked rather pleased with my disillusionment. Her yellow eyes began to burn with a fanatical glow- I think she sensed an easy convert to her cause.

"So now you see that hiding was never the answer," Raven told me. "Humans are always going to fear us, and we need to-"

"Save the proselytizing for a more receptive audience," I interjected coldly. "I have no interest listening to an ideology promulgated by a Holocaust survivor who believes in a 'superior race.' The irony would be laughable, were it not so shameful."

She scowled at me. "So you're going to go back to your worthless 'normal' facade when this is over? Give in to your petty desire to fit in?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "I'm going to be myself, because hiding from now on will be too dangerous for my family. But I also realize that wanting an entire society to accept me is just as foolish and preposterous as wanting to destroy it completely and building a new one to suit my own needs."

_Sound familiar?_

Raven fell into an angry silence, obviously thinking of some kind of retort. I'd struck her dumb with my declaration.

"Beast!" Charles suddenly called out. "Land in the clearing to the west of us. We're here."

_Finally. My love, I'll be with you soon..._


	62. Freedom

**Freedom**

"Here" happened to actually be an abandoned slaughterhouse at the edge of a decrepit hamlet located in the lap of the Catskill Mountain range.

I imagined that the stockyard had been the residents' main source of employment until its closing. Now, without it, the tiny town was so small and rundown you could blink and miss it as you drove through.

Perhaps half a mile from the dilapidated building where the Friends of Humanity were keeping Zoey there was a small clearing between the trees. I navigated the Blackbird to it, as Charles directed, and landed smoothly.

"So what's the plan?" Sean asked as soon as I cut the jet's engines. "How many FOH guys are in there?"

Charles pressed his fingers to his temple, searching the slaughterhouse with his powers. "There are at least forty men in the main floor area of the building. They're having a meeting of some kind," he murmured. "It seems that some of the group are arguing against keeping Zoey alive until Beast produces the 'cure'-"

I couldn't stop the growl that rose in my throat.

"-because she keeps setting everything on fire. They turned on the freezer unit they're keeping her in as punishment."

My hands balled into fists so tight I almost drew blood from my palms. The mental image of my little fire fairy huddled into a corner slowly freezing to death flickered across my vision and very nearly made me lose my head.

_That's why Zoey didn't mention it when we spoke to her using Cerebro,_ I realized with a pang. The way she'd hunched over and rubbed her arms while we talked now took on an entirely new meaning.  _She was hiding how cold she was to keep me from panicking._ _  
_

It felt like my heart was bleeding for her. My brave, beautiful Zoey knew me so well.

"How many are guarding her?" I demanded through clenched teeth.

_How many limbs do I get to go rip off?_

"Ten," Charles replied.

_Isn't that a little excessive? They must be terrified of her._

"I think it would be better if we split up," Erik suggested. "One group retrieve the girl, and the other make a diversion."

"I'm going to save my wife," I stated bluntly.

Charles deliberated for a moment. "Raven, you go with Beast. Havok, Banshee, create a diversion with Erik. You'll be able to work together, yes?"

The plan made logical sense- if all of us could cooperate, at least. Raven and I were more suited for close range, man-to-man fighting. The other three were better adapted for attacking large groups.

Sean and Alex reluctantly nodded in agreement, though they regarded our allies with evident suspicion. Raven rolled her eyes at them. Erik just smiled that ghoulish grin of his.

_It's the teeth, I think. Creepy._

"Alright. Beast, I'll walk you through it once you're inside," Charles told me. "Good luck, all of you."

We left him in the Blackbird and quietly crept through the trees to hide at the edge of the woods, where we could see the door to the warehouse.

There were three men standing outside smoking cigarettes. They appeared to be on guard duty, if the machine guns hanging loosely from straps across their chests were any indication, but they didn't seem to be particularly vigilant.

"Erik," I said quietly.

Within seconds the guards were silently dispatched, having been pistol whipped by their own guns.

"Alright, let's go," Alex muttered.

Erik led the way, striding confidently towards the door while the other two followed. Raven and I stayed in the treeline in anticipation of Charles' signal that the FOH members were sufficiently distracted for us to make our move.

After a minute or two I heard shots firing and the sound of Sean's supersonic screams.

But still no signal. I let out a restless sigh, hating the inactivity of waiting.

"You nervous?" Raven asked flippantly.

I turned to look at her incredulously.

_Small talk? Really?_

"No," I replied without thinking. "Just impatient to get my wife back."

"What's she like?"

I blinked, wondering what her motives were. Raven was pretending like our conversation on the jet didn't even happen, and it was incredibly disconcerting.

_She's trying to get in my head while I'm vulnerable,_ I thought cynically.  _"Tell me about your wife, Beast. That way I know just how much you love her right before we watch some FOH nut job kill her."_

When had I stopped trusting Raven, anyway? It must've been that day in Cuba. The woman I  _thought_  I knew would've never left Charles like that, wouldn't have listened to Erik's insane theories of mutant superiority.

_I never really knew her at all._

It made me appreciate what I had with Zoey all the more.

"Well?" Raven demanded.

"Zoey's smarter than I am, and stronger. She's the kindest, most compassionate person I've ever met. I feel like I'm a better person around her," I said finally. "She's my best friend. I can tell her anything."

_I can talk to her the way I could never talk to you._

"Sounds like a real winner," Raven noted sardonically. "How'd she end up with a guy like you?"

"Sometimes I ask myself that same question," I murmured honestly, ignoring the spitefulness in her tone.

_I still strive, every day, to prove myself worthy of Zoey..._

I looked down at my furry monkey-toes for a long moment, ruminating.

The last time I spoke with Raven, I came to terms with the fact that I would never get the opportunity to apologize for the things I said that fateful night in 1962. She wouldn't want to hear it after all that time, especially when I still hid my true face.

But now I wasn't hiding anymore. And the man I worked hard to be- the man who deserved Zoey- would take this chance, even if it was all for naught.

"I want you to know that I'm sorry about the things I said that night before Cuba," I said quietly. "I've always wondered how much my words affected your choice to leave with Erik."

She barely paused. "Don't flatter yourself," Raven scoffed, with a derisive snort. "I had to get away from my brother or I would've never been my own person.  _You_  had nothing to do with it."

Despite the harshness of her words, I almost wanted to laugh. I never meant that much to her, then. I spent  _years_  hung up on Raven after she left, and I'd always wondered if things could've been different for her if I hadn't been so cruel- but I never really mattered enough to affect her decisions in the first place.

Far from hurting my feelings, it was oddly... liberating. I wouldn't feel guilty about that anymore, though she hadn't accepted my apology, per se. Because at least I tried.

_Zoey will be so proud of me._

I pictured her giving me a kiss for making the effort to apologize right before stomping over to Raven and telling her she could've at least said "thank you." My wife was amazing like that.

I just wanted her back in my arms, where she belonged.

_Come on, come on._

It had been less than five minutes, but my impatience was starting to grow worse by the moment. I was  _so_  close to getting her back.

_Now,_ Charles' voice said.

I took off for the warehouse so quickly Raven was left scrambling to follow.

There were two men carrying pistols just inside the door. The wild look on their faces told me they were trying to run away from the general mayhem I could hear reigning on the large factory floor off to my right.

One of them squealed when he saw me, but I threw an elbow into his face and knocked him out before he could even raise his weapon. The other I grabbed by the arm and slung into the wall.

_The hallway to your left,_ Charles directed.

"Hurry up," I growled to Raven, just now reaching me. "This way."

There was no way she could keep up with me, of course, but she tried. We surprised three other men that I easily dispatched as we ran for a few minutes, making a right when Charles told me to, and then another left. We were now deep inside the building.

_Stop,_  he told me when I reached a left hand junction- Raven was still several yards behind.  _Around the corner is the freezer and all of the guards. Raven should go in first._

I heard a faint hiss behind me, the sound that always accompanied her transformations. She was disguised as one of the men I'd taken out on the way when she walked by, out into the view of the others.

"Hey, Jonesy," someone said from the end of the hallway. "What's going on? We keep hearing-"

The voice cut off with a strangled yelp, followed by shouts of astonishment and grunts of pain.

_That's my cue._

I turned the corner and darted into the fray, grabbing a man by the collar and throwing him down the hall. I ripped the stock from the barrel of his machine gun for good measure, using the grip to deliver a blow to another goon.

One guard began to raise his gun into a shooting position but lost his balance when my foot, with its dexterous finger-toes, reached out and jerked his ankle out from under him. His head hit the floor with an unhealthy  _crack,_ but not before sending a few rounds harmlessly into the ceiling.

Meanwhile, Raven more than held her own. She had shifted into her blue form just as I joined the fight, moving with reptilian grace to knock out the rest of our opponents.

There were only eight in the hallway, and it worried me slightly. Where were the other two guards? A bathroom break? Had we already encountered them along the way?

"There's a padlock on the door," Raven observed, interrupting my train of thought. "Should we-?"

I wordlessly reached out and ripped the door's steel handle off. I dug my claws into the jamb and wrenched the door open, too hyped with adrenaline to consider less destructive options.

A gush of wintry air rushed out to greet me, along with a wall of icy mist that completely obscured my vision. A glowing fireball appeared within the depths of the freezer, probably held in readiness to be thrown at a guard's head.

"Zoey?"

The flames flickered out.

"Hank," my love's voice said, weak with relief and cold.

_Finally._


	63. Reunion

**Reunion**

"Zoey," I croaked, trying to peer inside. "Sweetheart-"

She came stumbling out of the mist and fell right into my arms with a deep, shuddering exhale of contentment. I lifted her off of her feet and held her as tightly as I dared while mumbling affectionate nonsense to her.

"Zoey- oh, thank heavens-"

I felt like a man who had just been told his terminal cancer was actually misdiagnosed, who had gotten a last-minute reprieve from the electric chair. My heart was whole and beating again.

It was all I could do to not collapse from the overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude I felt. I barely had the presence of mind to reach over with one leg and shove the door to the freezer shut, to block the frigid air.

_Thank God thank God thank God._

Zoey felt like a mutant-sized popsicle- her lips were blue, her teeth chattering, and her body was wracked with shivers. Her hands- red with cold- were so chilly they stung me a little when she dug her fingers into my fur to warm them.

She moved her head away from my chest and pulled me down for a kiss, which I gladly reciprocated- and then some. I felt like I was melting, even as Zoey pressed her icy lips all over my face.

"We're ok, Hank," she whispered earnestly. "It's ok. You're here now, darling, you have me-"

_You're_ _the one who got kidnapped and_ you're  _comforting_ me _?_

It was ironic, but truthfully I welcomed the reassurance. Zoey always seemed to know exactly what I needed, how to make me be my "best" self. She was the ultimate source of any strength and inner peace I possessed.

"Th-the baby?" I sputtered hopefully, finally setting her to her feet.

I vaguely noticed her shoes were gone as I reached out to touch her tummy.

"Fine, I think," Zoey assured me with a smile. Her hand joined mine on her stomach.

My breath left me in a whoosh and I grinned back, pulling her in for another embrace.

_"Ahem,"_  Raven interjected pointedly.

Zoey and I jumped- I'd completely forgotten the shape-shifter's presence, and Zoey hadn't even noticed her in the first place. Now that I remembered Raven was there I had to fight the childish urge to stick my tongue out at her.

See _? Zoey loves me, even like this._

"Hello, Mystique," Zoey greeted her uncertainly.

She glanced at me with noticeable confusion, obviously wondering what Raven was doing here on a rescue mission.

_Yeah, I haven't figured that out either._

"Can you have this little reunion on the jet? We're still in enemy territory, here," Raven snapped, ignoring the pleasantry. Her caustic tone made it sound like she  _really_  wanted to call us "idiots" as she watched us with disdain.

Her judgment wasn't fair, though- our emotional reunion had lasted a mere two minutes or so. Could she really blame us for taking a moment?

_Raven Darkholme, you_ _have a heart of stone._

"Let's get you out of here," I told Zoey, taking her hand. "Do you need me to carry you or do you want to walk?"

"I don't think I can walk very far," she confessed. It looked like it killed her to admit the weakness, especially since Raven was regarding her with evident condescension and hatred in her cold yellow eyes.

"It's ok, my love," I said soothingly.

I easily scooped her up and broke into a trot, trailing slightly behind Raven since my hands were full.

"What happened to your sandals?" I asked after a minute or two.

"I burned them to keep warm," Zoey replied simply.

I wished I hadn't mentioned it. My hands tightened around her at the thought of what she went through, because of  _me._

We were almost out, with no further run-ins with armed and belligerent FOH members. One more hallway and we'd be at the front door and the freedom beyond.

I should've known we wouldn't get out that easily.

"Zoey, I'm-" I began to say as we strode down the hall.

And then two young men- actually, they were more like boys- stumbled into our path, with submachine guns at the ready. There was a fanatical gleam in their eyes, an almost rabid excitement as they regarded the blue, alien-looking mutants in front of them.

"Don't move!" one of them ordered in a familiar voice. "Or we'll turn you into mutant Swiss cheese!"

_It's the ring leader of that group of hoodlums who attacked us._ _That punk-_

The other one chuckled giddily, like his friend had just made a hilarious joke.

Raven and I froze, assessing the situation.

Our assailants were too far away to disarm without them opening fire first. Pistols we might've been fast enough to handle, but with such rapid-fire weapons neither of us had a hope of getting to them without catching a few bullets at the very least. With Zoey there, risking it wasn't even an option.

In our current position, halfway down a windowless, door-less hallway, we also didn't have much chance of escaping back the way we came without getting shot.

The fact that Raven wasn't moving told me she agreed with my evaluation.

"Let's kill them," the second kid said eagerly. "They'll  _have_  to make us full members after this."

I bit back a snarl.

Could this really be happening? After all we'd been through, the love of my life and my unborn child would die in my arms at the hands of mutant-hating bigots.

Because of _me_ , because of my stupid vanity and self-esteem issues. The FOH would've never taken her hostage if they didn't have reason to believe I could develop a cure. My wife, my love, would die now. And it was all my fault.

In that moment I wished I'd never met Zoey Dubois. Without me she would've lived a long life and stayed far away from the all of this. She'd be safe somewhere, hopefully happy and content. Not staring death in the face.

" _Homo sapiens_ ," Raven hissed, her fists clenched at her sides. "You think-"

I tuned out her little rant, trying to think of a way to at least save Zoey.

_Maybe if I run back the way we came my body will be enough to protect her from the bullets until we make it out of range,_  I thought wildly. _She might stand a chance, if she can hide long enough for the other X-Men to save her._

It was the best hope I could give Zoey.

"Shut up!" the other kid yelled, holding his gun up higher. "Let's kill all these freaks."

I squeezed Zoey tighter, trying to silently communicate a goodbye. She was gripping one of the straps on my flight suit like it was a lifeline.

_I love you, Zoey. I'm so sorry. I wish I could've met our baby..._

The next events happened simultaneously, so fast my brain could barely comprehend everything.

Their fingers went to squeeze the triggers-

I began to turn away, shielding Zoey's body with mine-

And then Zoey snapped her fingers, and both boys shrieked like little girls as the magazines of their guns blew out the bottoms with a great deal of force.

_The gunpowder. She ignited the gunpowder of the cartridges in the magazines._

I didn't stop to admire Zoey's handiwork, though. I made a run for it, now that our enemies had no weapons.

Raven was already on the attack, flipping one boy over her shoulder so he landed on his back with a hard thud. The other got a solid kick to the face- it sounded like his nose broke as I bolted by him, clutching Zoey to my chest.

One minute later all three of us were out of the slaughterhouse and breaking for the trees. The entire extraction from the moment Sean and the rest had entered the building to now had taken a little less than fifteen minutes.

"Charles!" I called out, hoping he would hear me. "Charles, we've got her!"

_Splendid. I'll let the others know._

"Where the hell were you two seconds ago when we had machine guns aimed at our heads?" Raven shouted up at the sky. She sounded  _very_  grumpy.

_I'm so sorry, love. Alex and Erik were having- a bit of a_ disagreement _._

I groaned. Did I even  _want_  to know?

By then we'd reached the Blackbird. I set Zoey down once we were inside, but kept an arm around her waist when she wobbled from exhaustion.

"It's so good to see you safe and sound, Zoey," Charles said with a relieved grin on his face. He reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Congratulations on the baby, dear."

She gave him a tired smile. "Thank you."

Raven plopped herself down in a jump seat, looking bored and annoyed. "Can we get out of here now?"

"Just a minute, love."

For lack of anything better to do I sat down across from Raven, pulling Zoey into my lap. She curled up and snuggled against my neck with a quiet sigh while I held her tightly, nuzzling her hair.

_I have you. You're back where you belong, Zoey._

I did my best to ignore the way Raven seemed to watch us with a sullen expression on her face.

It's not that I believed she was jealous of Zoey and I- after all, Raven had made it clear she never cared for me that much in the first place. But for whatever reason, my happiness just seemed nauseating to her.

_What, does it hurt your ego that I'm not lovesick over you still? Even though you never wanted me, anyway? Get over yourself, Raven._

The others showed up soon after we settled in. Sean looked relatively unscathed, but Alex was sporting a black eye and Erik had a busted lip. Both of them were giving each other malevolent looks.

Alex spared us a half-smile and a nod before saying, "I'll go ahead and pilot the jet home."

"Thanks," I told him with sincere gratitude.

I didn't want to let go of Zoey yet. Honestly, I probably wouldn't for a while.

Erik was silent as Alex stalked past him on the way to the cockpit, but thankfully made no move towards the younger man. He took the seat next to Raven and basically ignored the rest of us.

"Hi, Zoey," Sean said in an overly cheerful voice, trying to ease the tension. "Glad you're ok."

"Thanks, Sean," Zoey replied. "I'm glad all of you are safe, too."

Sean shrugged. "It was actually kinda fun."

"Fun or not," Charles said meaningfully, "it's over and done with. Let's go home."


	64. Gratitude

**Gratitude**

We didn't talk much on the flight home, but words weren't really necessary. I knew I would hear the story of what happened to her eventually, but there would be time for that later. For now, everything was alright because Zoey was safely back in my arms where she belonged.

She stayed cuddled up in my lap the entire time, wrapped in a blanket Sean found for her. I gently rubbed warmth back into her arms and legs while she lightly dozed with her face buried in my fur. Zoey's fingers and toes were a healthy pink rather than an angry, freezing red now, so I prayed there would be no lasting effects from her stint in that freezer.

We only spoke once, when we were almost back to the Institute. That last stand-off against those hooligans kept replaying in my mind, nagging at me until I finally had to give voice to the question preying on my thoughts.

"How'd you know igniting the gunpowder in the cartridges would work, sweetheart?" I asked her quietly, so the others wouldn't hear. "How'd you know the bullets wouldn't shoot out of the magazine?"

_Even if they had, I still would've tried to shield you from them._

"I didn't know," Zoey murmured sleepily. "But I knew what you were about to do, and I couldn't let you sacrifice yourself without trying to save you. I took a chance, and it worked."

I couldn't even speak- I could only hold her tighter.

Zoey knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would voluntarily die for her and the baby, and respected that choice. But when she saw an opportunity to change the circumstances she took it and saved us both.

"Our baby needs his father," Zoey whispered.

Her voice broke a little with her next words, the cracks finally showing in her composure now that her ordeal was over. She didn't have to be strong to keep me focused anymore. Now she could be weak, just for a moment.

"A-and  _I_  need my Hank."

"I'm here, Zoey," I promised fervently. "I'm-  _so_  proud of you."

Zoey let out a startled chuckle. "You're the one who came in on a white horse. Thank you, for saving me."

Even after all of this, her faith in me was unshakable.

I almost laughed. "I guess I'm your 'Prince Charming,' after all."

* * *

Moira, Gwen, and Maeve were anxiously waiting in the Blackbird hangar when we landed, like a little welcoming committee.

"Zoey!" Maeve cried when she saw me carrying her friend out of the plane. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Zoey assured her. "Just tired."

I set her on her feet, still wrapped in the blanket, so her friends could satisfy their need to know she truly alright and also congratulate her on the baby. They surrounded her and practically buried her in hugs.

It was only after they were convinced of Zoey's well-being that the ladies turned to their respective significant others.

Moira greeted her husband with a loving kiss, as did Maeve.

"What happened to your eye?" Gwen demanded of Alex, after giving him a rib-cracking hug. "Did some stupid redneck get a lick in on you?"

Alex shook his head and gestured towards Erik, who was standing off to the side with Raven. The two of them looked like they smelled something rotten while they observed the little welcoming scene.

_Seeing three humans treat mutants with love make you queasy?_

Sadly, I knew it was too late to ever change their opinions about mankind.

"Havok may have gotten a little overenthusiastic about policing Erik's methods," Charles explained. "It led to- a bit of a disagreement over whether Erik was killing one individual with a pen, when in fact he wasn't. Blows were exchanged, but no real harm done."

Erik smirked at Alex. It brought to mind a child trying to silently provoke their sibling in front of their parents to cause trouble. Thankfully Gwen had a good grip on her boyfriend's arm, to keep him from doing something stupid.

"So you didn't go psycho  _one_  time, Magneto," Alex said harshly. "That still doesn't mean you're anything but a crazy murdering bastard who gives all of us a bad name. I'm never going to trust you."

"Alex," Charles sighed. "You-"

"It's fine, old friend. We can tell where we're not wanted," Erik interjected, eyeing the rest of us with contempt. And maybe even a hint of disappointment. "We should get going. Mystique?"

Raven nodded. "Goodbye, Charles," she told her brother, like the rest of us were beneath her notice.

They turned to leave.

"Wait!" Zoey cried, tottering forward.

I shadowed her, of course.

"Thank you, Magneto, for saving me," she said earnestly. "You didn't have to, and I appreciate it."

_Also, thanks for not going on a mass killing spree,_ I amended silently.

I still wasn't sure why they agreed to help in the first place.

But Zoey's sincerity seemed to touch the dark hole where Erik's heart used to be, because he gave her a tiny smile before he walked away.

"And thank you, Mystique," Zoey added, before Raven could follow.

Raven raised her eyebrows. "I didn't do it for you," the blue woman replied dismissively.

"Even so," Zoey retorted, "can't you just be polite for once and say 'you're welcome?'"

I had to choke back laughter.

_My stars and garters, I love you._

Raven rolled her eyes. "You're welcome. And congratulations on your  _Beast spawn_ ," she said spitefully, before turning on her heel and walking away.

"Thank you," Zoey called out cheerfully to her retreating back.

Then my wife looked at the rest of us with a hopeful expression, her hands on her stomach.

"Can someone please get me some food? 'Beast spawn' is making me hungry."

* * *

"So Nick said he wanted to talk, and I opened the door for him. But as soon as I did, these five other men came rushing in behind him. I tried to fight them off, but one of them chloroformed me. I woke up with my hands and feet duct taped together in this little room being guarded by two guys. I set the room on fire before they noticed I was awake," Zoey explained, leaning against me.

"I was hoping they would leave me in there, but one of them grabbed me. This one man- he seemed to be in charge, he's the one who talked on the phone with you, Hank- yelled at them for putting me in a flammable room in the first place."

"That guy was definitely in charge," Sean agreed. "Alex got him with a good blast to the chest while he was trying to order everybody around."

We were all sitting in one of the more intimate living rooms at the Institute, listening to Zoey recount the events of her captivity.

She'd lit a fire and was currently curled up on the fireplace's hearth, eating a ham and cheesy macaroni sandwich (gross). I sat next to her with my arm around her waist, my hand resting on the little bump of her stomach.

Before we all settled down, though, Zoey had called her sister and told her she was safe.

_"Oh, thank God,"_  Chloe blurted out- I could hear her through the phone.  _"Zoey, I-I don't know what to do-"_

"I want you and Livie to go stay at my apartment until I can think of how to deal with Nick, ok?" Zoey told her. "Don't tell him where you're going, just leave him there all tied up. And- please check on my cats?"

_"Ok. Ok, I will,"_  Chloe agreed.  _"Thank you, Zoey. You're a better sister than I deserve."_

"Oh, stop it. You're making me blush. Just be safe, and I'll see you soon."

"They moved me to that freezer, and I realized that it would probably to be too thick for Charles to see through," Zoey said now.

"So I behaved myself until I could talk to Hank and send him after Nick to buy me some time. Then I lit the guard's shoes on fire to chase him out and burned the duct tape off of me. They left me alone after that, because I was trapped, but it gave me time to work on that hole in the wall. Whenever they came to check on me I'd throw a fireball at them. They didn't like that, so they turned on the freezer to retaliate. You guys know the rest."

I kissed Zoey's cheek and held her tightly while the others reacted to her story, sending my thanks out into the universe that my wife was safe and by my side. She'd done beautifully through this entire thing. I was in awe of her.

Soon after that we excused ourselves (after another round of thanks and congratulations) to my old bedroom, which was still empty after all this time.

We'd decided that Chloe and Olivia would be safe enough at the apartment tonight, while the FOH was still recovering. Nicholas could stay tied up until morning. But in the future...

_It's probably not safe for us to live there anymore,_ I realized dejectedly.

"I think we need to move," I told Zoey as we entered my old room. "The FOH might-"

She placed a finger to my lips to silence me and pulled me down for a hungry, ardent kiss.

Zoey's fingers tugged at my fur, molding her body tightly against mine. I eagerly responded by stepping forward and pressing her against the door, answering to her, as always, with everything I had.

The kiss went on and on, our lips moving in a rhythm that was comforting, reassuring in its familiarity, but also raw with passionate desire. We needed this, an affirmation of the love and life that burned so brightly between us despite all efforts to tear us apart.

I wanted to fade into Zoey and never let her go.

By the time she finally broke the kiss I was breathless and dying for more. Her eyes were smoldering, blazing with a fire that I would gladly let consume me.

"We'll talk in the morning," Zoey murmured, leaning her forehead to mine and pressing another peck to my lips. "Right now I want you to make love to me and then hold me while we fall asleep."

Her wish was my command.


	65. Step One

**Step One**

I startled awake the next morning, my subconscious aware that I was naked and not in my own bed before the rest of me caught a clue.

_Ugh... where am I?_

And then I remembered the events of yesterday and felt a faint flutter of panic as the memories rushed to the surface of my mind.

_I almost lost Zoey. She almost died right in front of me-_

I reflexively turned my head to bury my face in her curls, letting her scent soothe me like it always did. I immediately relaxed, letting her presence wash over me like a warm spring rain.

_She's here. We're ok. It's over._

I laid there quietly for a while, listening to Zoey's soft snores and watching my pale, human hand stroke her hair. I'd reverted back when I fell asleep, but I only had a few hours left before the dose of serum I gave myself on Wednesday morning ran out.

Today was the last time I would ever look like this, relatively human and generally underwhelming, ever again. From now on I would resign myself to the stares and screams of the general public whenever they saw me. It was the death of all semblance of the "normalcy" I'd clung to for so long.

But while I mourned the loss of my old self, I knew it was worth it when I looked at Zoey snoring away and cuddled against my side. Her safety meant more to me than anything else, and that included being able to walk around on the street without inciting the locals to grab their torches and pitchforks.

I could only pray that she felt I was worth the condemnation and ridicule she would face for being married to a monster.

* * *

Zoey always woke up slowly when we were at home, but that was not the case today. She bolted awake with a gasp, sitting up and looking around wildly before spotting me next to her.

"Hi," I said quietly. I reached up and brushed her hair back from her face. "You ok?"

She let out a sigh and flopped back down, snuggling against me once more. "Just a bad dream," Zoey muttered. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Mhmm. Just hold me for a while," she murmured softly.

_That I can do._

For a few minutes we just laid there in a companionable silence, savoring the fact that we were together again.

But then I finally gathered my courage and decided to broach the subject we needed to discuss.

"Zoey?" I asked, turning on my side so we were face-to-face.

"Hmm?"

She looked at me with all the trust and love in the world shining out of her eyes, like she truly believed I was her "Prince Charming," her "white knight."

_Is there such a thing as a "blue knight?" Wait- focus._

I took a deep breath, willing myself to tell her. I hoped Zoey would understand why I had to do this. Even though it was going to be hard for both of us, everything came down to protecting her and our child.

"I can't use my serum anymore," I announced.

I cringed, waiting for her reaction.

"Yes, I know," she replied simply.

"Y-you do?" I sputtered.

The little speech I'd constructed in my head collapsed like a house of cards under Zoey's calm scrutiny. She didn't look surprised at all.

_Well that was easy._

For a moment I just stared at her with evident confusion.

"Yes. You're worried that as long as your serum exists, people will come after us and try to force you to make a cure," she explained.

I nodded slowly, taking in her composed expression.

Her pure green eyes were clear and bright, without any hint of disagreement with my conclusion. She'd obviously thought about this, too.

But then, Zoey probably had a lot of time to think while trapped in that freezer.

"It's not going to be easy," I told her, my heart in my throat. "I'm afraid of what people are going to say. Not just to me, but to you as well."

Zoey gave an awkward, one-shoulder shrug. "Sticks and stones, Hank. I know who my husband is, and that's what matters."

I let out a long, slow sigh of relief.

Perhaps I should've known better than to doubt her at this point. When had Zoey ever been anything but the most loving, supportive wife imaginable? Always willing to stand by my side...

"Thank you," I whispered, leaning in to give her a kiss.

She cradled my face in her hands when we came up for air, stroking along my cheeks with her thumbs.

"I'm glad you came to this decision on your own," she said quietly. "To not use your serum anymore."

I frowned in confusion. "How's that?"

"For the baby," Zoey replied. "He's probably going to be mutant, and-"

"'He?'" I couldn't help teasing, despite the seriousness of the discussion we just had.

After the stress and agony of yesterday afternoon, I suppose I needed a moment of frivolity. I wanted to pretend that this was a normal Saturday morning, sans the usual feline audience.

For that reason I grinned and ducked my head under the covers to kiss all over her stomach.

"You think it's a boy?"

"Oh, I don't know. But whenever I picture the baby I see a boy with cute little monkey-toes and big gold eyes," she explained.

_That's better than a baby teddy bear, I guess._

"I see."

Zoey's voice became a little breathless as I kissed a trail up her body to her neck and allowed my hands to wander. "But- but that's not what I was getting at," she gasped, squirming provocatively underneath me.

"Right," I agreed. I moved off of her and settled down on my side to listen, my hand on her tummy. "Please continue."

She pouted at me for stopping, but explained anyway. "It's not really fair of us to tell a child they should accept themselves when we hide too, don't you think?"

My playful mood instantly vanished.

Zoey was right, of course. Perhaps I eventually would've arrived at that conclusion as well, had circumstances not forced me into it.

For all my talk of wanting to be a good father, I wouldn't be setting a good example for our child if I still hid my mutation from the world. I'd be a hypocrite of the worst order.

This was truly the only way, no matter what hardships we would face. And I was sure there would be quite a few.

"Yes, I see your point," I murmured uneasily.

I rolled back over to stare at the ceiling in contemplation, feeling very frustrated and afraid. I kept thinking of our baby, what life would be like for him. How difficult and dangerous the world was for mutants.

The apprehension I felt for myself- and even for Zoey- was nothing compared to the anguish I experienced when I thought of the world our child would be born into.

"I'm sorry," Zoey mumbled. "I didn't mean to upset you, Hank."

"You didn't," I replied. "I just-"

I paused, trying to gather my thoughts.

"I  _hate_  this. I hate what I'm going to put you through, what our  _child_  is going to go through, just for what we are," I said finally. "It's not- it's not  _fair_."

Zoey propped herself up on one elbow to see my face. "At least we'll have Xavier's though, right? Our baby is always going to have somewhere to belong."

"Somehow it doesn't feel like enough," I retorted, shaking my head. "Yes, there's somewhere, but what happens when he gets older? If yesterday proved anything, it's that this world is a dangerous place for mutants. Hiding away passively here at the mansion isn't doing anything to change that."

I sighed.

"I'm starting to wonder if Charles' way is truly the best approach," I muttered. "It feels like we're just hiding here, waiting for the world to magically change and become safe for mutants. But we're not  _doing_  anything to fix it. I want- I want more for our baby than this."

Though I'd told myself it was foolish to want all of society to accept  _me_ , I wanted exactly that for my child. I wanted him to have the world. To be safe...

Zoey began to look uneasy. "Hank, you're starting to scare me," she said anxiously. "What are you saying? That you agree with Magneto now?"

"No, of course not," I replied earnestly, turning over to face her again. "I'm not talking about mutant superiority. I-"

I pulled up short as things clicked into place- Raven's attempt to convince me about her cause, Erik's unusual restraint, the fact that they even assisted us in the first place. They thought Zoey's kidnapping would be motivation enough to change our minds about mutant-human relations and join the Brotherhood.

It explained why Raven tried to persuade me, why Erik refrained from killing all of those FOH members with their own weapons- because even if an X-Man did an about-face, they surmised, we wouldn't suddenly be on board with a massacre. Even of the FOH.

They underestimated our loyalty, though. Hence their hasty retreat once we were safely back at the Institute.

"I think that's why Erik and Raven agreed to help us," I mused aloud. "They were hoping that you getting kidnapped would sway at least one of the X-Men into changing sides."

Zoey still looked worried.

"It didn't work, sweetheart," I promised. "I was talking about mutant  _equality,_  not superiority."

Her expression became relieved, though for a few minutes she mulled it over in silence.

"Ok," she announced finally. "Ok, I understand. But what are you going to do, Hank? I think we can agree that wanting change is only the first step. Step two is actually  _takin_ _g_ it."

I instantly deflated as Zoey grounded me in reality.

_Dreaming big is one thing, but making them come true is a different story._

I didn't realize that I'd spoken that thought aloud until Zoey replied.

"Darling, you're one of the greatest inventors the world has ever seen. Making dreams a reality is what you  _do_ ," she said.

"I think da Vinci would take offense to that," I noted dryly.

"Good thing he's dead then," Zoey retorted, sticking her tongue out at me. "Besides, most of his work was theoretical.  _Yours_  is practical."

"Thanks for clearing that up," I joked.

I pulled her in for a long, lingering kiss.

"I love you," I told her seriously, stroking her cheek with one hand.

"I love you, Hank" Zoey replied. She turned her head to kiss my palm. "You'll think of something, darling. I have faith in you."


	66. New Beginnings

**New Beginnings**

There were other things to worry about before I tried to change the world on a wider scale.

Things like dealing with Nicholas Grey, finding a new place to live, and telling the people I considered to be my parents-in-law that the mousy, diffident man they  _thought_  their goddaughter was married to was actually a furry blue beast in disguise.

But first, I needed to destroy my serum.

So after re-dressing and eating a quick breakfast, Zoey and I went down to the laboratory on a solemn mission. She stood quietly while I gathered up the remaining bottles I had of serum and my notes on its derivation.

Taking a deep breath, I released Beast in my head. The change, that feeling of bursting out of my own skin, swept over me for the last time.

"R-ready?" I asked.

My voice wasn't as strong as I would've liked. I guess contemplating the destruction of my serum was completely different from actually following through.

_Step one is wanting change. Step two is taking it..._

Zoey nodded and started unscrewing the tops of the bottles.

And then I poured them down the sink, one by one. Watching my normalcy go down the drain, as it were.

It wasn't as uplifting as I'd hoped it would be, destroying all of the substance that could bring so much harm to my wife and child. I guess I expected to feel this great rush of endorphins from the nobility of my self-sacrifice, but instead all I felt was a sort of hard-bitten resignation and a futile longing for my old self. I suppose I was mourning it, in a way.

The feeling didn't completely vanish when I looked at Zoey, but it definitely subsided quite a bit. I knew, without a doubt, that she was worth it. I would move past this- it would just take some time.

"Would you do the honors?" I asked her, holding up my notes.

She blinked, and the sheets of paper caught fire. The flames were blue, which I suppose was rather fitting.

I sighed as the ashes fell into the sink.

It was over.

"Good riddance," I announced, trying to sound sincere.

Somehow the words still rang hollow in my ears.

"Don't say that," Zoey argued gently. "Without that serum, I doubt we would've ever met. So that's something to be thankful for, isn't it? It's just- it's not  _necessary_  anymore, is all."

I met her gaze and found a wealth of compassion and empathy staring back at me in her eyes.

"I understand, Hank," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll be ok," I promised. "Eventually. Just- just be there for me."

"Always, darling."

Zoey held out her arms, and I sank to my knees with a heavy exhale. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pressed my ear against her stomach while she stroked my hair- fur, whatever.

I had everything I needed right in my arms. I would be ok.

* * *

"Auntie, your kitties won't come out of your closet," Olivia announced, after the obligatory celebration of Zoey's safe return when we arrived at our apartment later that morning. "They're too scared."

"I'll go coax them out," Zoey said. "And if you don't mind waiting, I'm going to wash up a bit, too."

_We don't mind. Nicholas might, considering he's been duct taped to a chair all night. But who cares about him?_

Zoey stood on tiptoe to give me a quick kiss (to Chloe's bemusement) before disappearing into our bedroom.

As we waited for Zoey to shower I recounted an edited version of last night's events to Olivia while Chloe watched us like she expected me to let out a roar and turn her daughter into a snack at any moment.

I tried to ignore her rude staring and addressed her politely.

"Are you handling this alright, Chloe?" I asked. "How are you?"

"I'm ok," she replied in a small voice.

"We stayed up late talking and eating ice cream," Olivia added brightly. "Hopefully Auntie's not too mad we ate all of it."

"She hasn't figured out how to put it on white bread yet," I muttered, thinking of Zoey's breakfast that morning- an apple and peanut butter sandwich. "You should be fine for a few months before she notices. Unless her cravings change, and then I can't protect you."

Olivia giggled, and even Chloe let out a startled chuckle.

That surprised me. It was the first time she'd ever laughed at something I said.

Actually, I couldn't recall  _ever_  hearing Chloe Grey laugh.

_Maybe she's not so bad, away from her jackass husband._

* * *

All too soon it was time to face said jackass.

"Are you sure all the stress you're putting yourself through is a good idea?" I asked Zoey tentatively as we followed Chloe and Olivia over to the house in our own car.

"I'm not stressed," Zoey replied blithely. "I'm so furious I'm absolutely calm."

_I wouldn't want to be Grey right now. Angry pregnant Zoey on the loose._

I know  _I_  would be terrified.

Nicholas had managed to knock himself over at some point in the night, probably trying to escape. Who knew for how long he laid there awkwardly like that with his ankles and wrists duct taped to the chair?

I hoped the discomfort forced some humility and repentance into him.

"Have you come to kill me, you freaks?" he spat, still full of bravado despite the circumstances.

_Or not._

"You're too pitiful for that," Zoey retorted coldly. "It'd be like killing an obnoxious puppy."

I growled at Nicholas as I set him upright. Then I took my place next to my wife. She had her arms around her sister, while Olivia was on Chloe's left.

"Come on, Chloe," Zoey encouraged. "You can do this."

"I-I want a divorce," Chloe announced timidly.

_Yeah, that'll show him. Way to give it your almost, Chloe._

Nicholas snorted derisively. "You can't divorce me. What would you even do with yourself? You're  _worthless_  without me."

"Don't say that to Mama," Olivia scolded in a shrill voice. "Daddy-"

"Don't call me that," Nicholas spat. "I don't have a daughter anymore, you little freak."

Olivia recoiled like he slapped her. I couldn't imagine what it felt like to have a parent so harshly repudiate her like that.

I snarled and would've stepped forward were it not for the gentle hand Zoey laid on my arm. Nicholas immediately cringed away from me as much as the chair allowed.

"I'm not going to stay with someone who calls my daughter a freak," Chloe replied, her voice becoming more sure. It seemed like she drew strength from defending her daughter. "Or who hits me and treats me like garbage. Not anymore."

Chloe took a deep breath.

"I want you to leave this house and never come back."

"You can't kick me out-"

"I can," Zoey supplied cheerfully. "And I'll do it gladly."

"If- if you do I'll tell the cops your freak show husband assaulted me and tied me to a chair-"

"And I'll tell them you kidnapped me and beat your wife for years," she threw back. "I've heard they don't like wife-beaters in prison. Chloe, do you want to press charges?"

Nicholas turned pale as all of the blood drained out of his face at the thought of imprisonment. For all his bluster, he was a complete coward at heart.

"Only if he refuses to leave us alone," Chloe whispered. "If he promises to never bother any of us again, I won't press charges."

"You hear that, Nick?" Zoey said. "You're going to pack all of your stuff up today, and never set foot on this property again. Chloe's going to file for divorce- and probably a restraining order, just to be thorough- and then you're going to stay far, far away from all of us. Otherwise we'll make sure you spend the next twenty-plus years rotting in prison.  _If_  you survive that long."

Nicholas gaped at us, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish out of water. It was actually rather satisfying to see him at such a loss for words.

"It's over, Grey," I said grimly. "I want you to go back to the Friends of Humanity and tell them the serum is gone, and so is the formula. There  _is_  no cure, and there never will be. If the FOH threatens my family again, what happened last night is just a taste of what will come for them."

I stepped closer, looming over him menacingly. He cowered away from me, trying to scoot the chair back.

"And as for  _you_ \- if any of these ladies so much as has an  _accident_  that seems suspect, rest assured that I will blame you for it," I growled. "And I will hunt you down like the gutless cur you are. Do you understand?"

He nodded soundlessly, looking terrified. I couldn't summon up even an ounce of pity for Nicholas, even though he was a man who had just lost everything. He was just too contemptible to feel bad for.

After that I ripped off the duct tape restraining him with my claws, and followed him around the house to keep an eye on him while he gathered his things. I didn't trust him not to try something stupid- a last gasp attempt to cause problems for all of us.

"You know, you're very attractive when you're trying to be intimidating," Zoey murmured as we watched Nicholas pack his bags into the back of his car.

Chloe and Olivia had demurred from seeing him off. I think it was too painful for them, even after everything he put them through, how hateful he was. I truly hoped that time would help heal the wounds Nicholas Grey had left on his wife and daughter.

I snorted and glanced down to see Zoey's eyes were dancing with mischief. "Really?"

"Definitely."

"If you say so," I replied, chuckling as my cheeks started to warm. Even after almost five years of marriage her compliments still did that to me.

I pulled her in for an embrace just as Nicholas finished loading the trunk.

He gave us one last baleful look, and then got in the car and drove off.

We never saw him again.

Nicholas Grey died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head a few weeks later, in a seedy motel room in New York City.


	67. The Game Plan

**The Game Plan**

"What are we going to do if they freak out?" I asked Zoey tentatively. "If they try to disown you? What will we do if your own family-"

"It's not going to come to that," she said in a very firm voice. "Don't worry, Hank. Just trust me, ok?" _  
_

Her certainty was soothing, though it didn't completely dispel my anxiety.

"Ok," I agreed, still unsure.

We were sitting in the Jaguar outside of the Rivers' house the next evening, mentally preparing ourselves for what had the potential to be a heart-wrenching confrontation.

I was  _not_  looking forward to it, but I knew it had to be done at some point. So when Zoey suggested we go over for the usual Sunday dinner with her godparents I reluctantly agreed.

This was going to be the first time Billy and Marceline ever saw me as Beast. They didn't even  _know_  about my second mutation, since we never saw any reason to tell them about it.

No one in the general public had seen me yet- it had started raining last night and hadn't stopped since (to my relief and Zoey's dismay, considering how much she abhorred precipitation), so there weren't many people out and about this weekend.

I hadn't even run into anyone in the lobby of our building, which we'd returned to temporarily while we looked for a house. With Nicholas feeling properly afraid of me and carrying that warning back to the FOH, we decided it was safe enough for now.

Zoey was characteristically dispirited about the weather- my love was meant for clear skies and sunshine, not pouring rain and anything else that would mess up her hair. Combined with the fact that she was still feeling tired from her ordeal Friday night and just being pregnant in general, she was quite content to lounge around the apartment rather than going to the grocery store, as was our custom on the weekend.

I was secretly quite agreeable to that. I was in no rush to face the world's acrimony, though I knew it would inevitably happen sooner or later. Unlike the years immediately following my second mutation when I was younger, I wouldn't consign myself to living in the shadows because of my appearance anymore.

Zoey deserved better than a life like that.

She _also_ deserved a life where she could live without persecution over what her husband was, but being married to me made that rather unavoidable.

_Let's just get this over with_.

I sighed and got out of the car, grabbing an umbrella as I went. I opened it and used it to shield Zoey from the rain as I helped her out.

"It'll be fine, darling," she promised, standing on tiptoe to give me a kiss.

And then she practically dragged me up the walkway to the front door. We entered without knocking, as was usual for us.

"Billy, Marcy, we're here!" Zoey called out as I shut the door behind me.

"Ah,  _ma petite_ ," Marceline's voice cried, coming closer from somewhere within the house.

_Here goes everything_.

"How is my grandbaby treating you to-?" she asked as she rounded into the foyer.

And then Marceline gasped and clutched at her chest when she saw me, like I'd given her a heart attack.

_Yeah, hi. I get that a lot_.

_"Morbleu!_  H-hank, is that you?" she sputtered. "What on earth-?"

I had to give Marceline credit- her reaction seemed more surprised that a man she'd known for years had shown up looking completely different from before, rather than repulsed or horrified of said difference.

"Yes, it's me," I replied, avoiding her eyes.

Her expression clearly implied we had some explaining to do.

"Let's sit down and talk," Zoey suggested brightly, as undaunted as ever.

Marceline nodded slowly and led the way into her living room, casting furtive glances over her shoulder all the while. Though her bemusement was considerably better than outright fear, the ogling still set my teeth on edge.

_I might as well get used to it,_ I thought grimly.

Billy was sitting in his favorite dilapidated armchair in the living room, reading the Sunday paper. Marceline walked over behind him and stood there, waiting for us to speak.

"Hey, guys," Billy greeted us, glancing over his newspaper as Zoey and I sat down on the sofa.

And then he did a double take and practically fell out of his chair.

"Kid? Is that you?" he asked suspiciously.

I nodded.

"What happened to you? What's going on?"

Zoey squeezed my hand, silently communicating support.

I took a deep breath. I wasn't even sure how to explain this.

"When I was seventeen," I began hesitantly, "I had an accident when I tried to create a serum to hide the physical attributes of my mutation. It turned me into this instead."

I gestured to myself.

"Eventually I derived another formula that repressed this second mutation in the hopes that I could live a relatively normal life," I continued. "But recent events have shown me that it's no longer safe for me to use my serum anymore."

"'Recent events?'" Marceline queried.

"Nick found out about us and ratted to the Friends of Humanity," Zoey explained. "They took me hostage the other day in the hopes that they could force Hank to make a 'cure' for being a mutant."

"What-?"

"That bastard!" Marceline hissed.

And then she let out a stream of rapid-fire French that wasn't exactly suitable for print.

"Nick has been taken care of," Zoey assured them. "Chloe kicked him out, and he won't be bothering us anymore."

"And neither will the FOH," I added. "I think they learned on Friday not to cross us. And now that my serum is gone, there's no reason for other groups to come after my family."

I looked down at Zoey meaningfully as she snuggled against my arm. I kissed the crown of her head, afraid of showing too much affection in front of her godparents in my current state.

My eyes met Billy's and a moment of silent communication passed between us.

_You'll live like this to protect her?_  he seemed to ask with his eyes.

_Yes. For her, anything._

He frowned, and I imagined that he was considering our uncertain future. How would his goddaughter fare out in the world with such a husband? What hardships would she face?

I could only hope Billy wouldn't ask me to leave Zoey for her own sake. As selfless as I tried to be, I didn't think I could bear that. And what of our baby?

"S-so you've been hiding this the whole time we've known you?" Marceline asked tentatively, tearing my thoughts away from our imminent problems.

At my nod, she looked at Zoey. "Did you know?"

"Yes," my wife replied. "I've known about Hank's second mutation since the first night we ever really talked. I didn't mention it to you because it wasn't my secret to tell."

Marceline rounded on me, the question evident in her expression.

"I was afraid," I told her, with painful honesty, "that you would tell me to stay away from Zoey if you knew what I was. I wouldn't blame you for it, but I-"

_I loved her too much to let her go. Even if it was selfish, even if it still is now._

Billy let out a wry chuckle. "You being such a chicken shit about talking to her makes complete sense now," he observed dryly.

I winced, but I could feel Zoey shaking from repressed laughter next to me.

"Thanks," I muttered.

"Bill," Marceline scolded reproachfully. "Don't make it harder for him than it already is."

"Yeah, yeah," Billy said, waving his hand dismissively. But when he spoke he was serious. "Hank, you obviously love my goddaughter, and I know you're a good man. This doesn't change my opinion of you."

"And me either," his wife agreed. "You're still the same person,  _cher._ "

I let out a mental sigh of relief.

_Thank heavens._

Billy tried not to grin when he saw me visibly relax over their acceptance. "What we need to worry about is getting everybody else in this town to be ok with you," he said thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair.

"Do you honestly think people will ever look at me like this and not be afraid?" I asked rhetorically.

Billy and Marceline exchanged reluctant glances. Their hesitance was disheartening, to say the least.

"I think you should just go out and be normal," Zoey announced. "If you  _act_  normal, people will treat you that way."

"You don't think they'll cause a scene or run away screaming?" I argued incredulously.

She shook her head. "I think you underestimate the desire people have to just go about their day without trouble," she replied. "We'll get some strange looks, yeah, but if you're acting like any other person and not causing problems I don't see many having the gumption to say anything."

"But-"

"Zoey has a point," Marceline mused. "Just think of the Nazis during the War. How many Germans took a stand against them? Even in France, many of us found it easier to outwardly go along with the Vichy government to survive, rather than resist."

_I'm being compared to the Nazi Occupation? Great._

Billy noticed my dismay, because he chose that moment to chime in. "I think what Marceline is trying to say is, most people would rather not bother taking that much of a stand, even if you scare them. People in groups are funny that way. It's only the truly brazenly ignorant who will take the trouble to speak up, especially if you're acting like any other human being."

"And those that  _do_  cause problems," Zoey concluded with quiet conviction, "will answer to me."

Listening to her indomitable determination, I could almost believe she was right.


	68. A Trip to the Doctor's Office

**A Trip to the Doctor's Office**

Our theory was put to the test the very next day, when Zoey had a doctor's appointment scheduled to determine our baby's due date and general well-being.

I wasn't looking forward to going out in public at all, but I was determined to be there for Zoey through everything. To be a good husband, and to start being a good father before our baby even arrived.

"I'm so excited," Zoey said, practically clapping her hands in the passenger seat as I drove us to the doctor's office. "We're going to see our baby for the first time! And we'll hear his heartbeat! Aren't you excited?"

Her enthusiasm was undeniably infectious, and I found myself smiling despite my ruminations.

It's not that I wasn't just as excited as Zoey was- I was just too focused on my worries over how the people at the doctor's office would react to me to really allow myself to feel a positive sense of anticipation.

_Snap out of it, McCoy._

"Yes, I am. What do you think he's going to look like?" I asked, trying to make an effort to shake off the gloom.

"Right now? Like a giant sea monkey," Zoey replied, sounding completely serious.

I blinked.

_A sea_ monkey _? Isn't that a little insensitive?_

I glanced over, frowning, to see she was desperately trying not to giggle at my consternation. And then I realized she was just teasing me.

"Hey, watch it," I chided her. "That's my kid you're talking about."

We didn't stop laughing until we reached the parking lot for the doctor's office, but I immediately sobered as I regarded the building.

The laughter died on my lips as the pit of my stomach filled with foreboding and dread.

_I can do this. I think,_ I told myself, trying to psych myself up.

Zoey gently took my hand off the steering wheel and gave it a comforting squeeze. "You ready, darling?"

My eyes met hers.

I could see a grim determination and a fierce protectiveness towards me behind the concern I sensed in her gaze- like she was ready to be my shield in any situation we came up against now. Zoey wouldn't allow people to treat me with contempt without putting up a fight.

She wouldn't let me go through this alone.

My love. My brave, amazing wife.

"Zoey, I-"

"I know," she interjected, with a tiny smile. "Now, let's go."

* * *

I could sense everyone's eyes immediately zero in on me when we stepped into the building.

The weight of a dozen startled stares crushed me from all sides, like deep ocean pressure. The scent of fear emanating from the other people inside almost made me want to sneeze.

Zoey kept her head held high as we made our way over to the receptionist desk, ignoring everyone else. She practically had to drag me along.

_If I don't move too fast,_  I reasoned,  _I can't startle anyone. Letting myself be dragged around by a hundred pound woman probably helps, too._

The overly- made up receptionist jumped about a mile when she looked up from her paperwork and saw us- or  _me_ , to be more specific.

_So much for that theory._

"C-can I help you?" she sputtered, her eyes darting briefly to Zoey before settling back on me.

I tried to smile at her- closed mouth, hiding my fangs.

_As you can see, ma'am, I am_ not  _scary. I'm a_ nice _, furry blue monster._

She looked like she was about to pass out.

"Yes, thank you," Zoey said politely. I could hear the testiness in her tone only because I knew her so well. "I have an appointment at ten with Dr. Stevenson."

"Um- ok," the receptionist replied, fumbling with some paperwork without really taking her eyes off me. She glanced down quickly. "Zoey McCoy?"

"That's me," Zoey agreed, smiling.

"H-here's some forms for you to fill out," the other woman muttered.

She practically threw the clipboard at us, like she was afraid I would make a grab for her hand if she got too close. I caught it before it skittered off the counter and then mentally winced because I moved too fast.

"Take a seat, and someone will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," I said quietly.

She looked completely nonplussed as we turned away and headed over to the waiting area.

"You ok?" Zoey whispered as we sat down.

The woman across from me took one look at us, got up, and went to take another seat as far away from us as possible.

"I'm fine," I lied.

Zoey sighed and leaned her head against my shoulder while she went about filling out the paperwork. I kept my gaze focused on the ground because I was afraid of seeing the other patients' expressions.

But I couldn't block out the sound of restless fidgeting as everyone but Zoey instinctively shifted away from me. Or the whispers.

_"What_ is  _that? A mutant?"_

_"Should we call the police?"_

_"I don't think so- I mean, he's not hurting anyone."_

_"But he's scaring my son- Johnny,"_ a woman's voice hissed.  _"Get back here."_

I glanced up to see a little boy in front of me- "Johnny," I presumed. He appeared to be eight years old or so.

In my peripheral vision I saw his mother beckoning frantically to her son. She seemed to be torn between wanting to get him away from me and being too afraid to get too close herself.

"'Scuse me, Mister," Johnny said, his thumbs in his pockets. "Are you a mutant?"

I nodded, feeling hyper-aware of the fact that every single person in that waiting area was watching us intently. "Yes."

"Are you sick?"

"No."

"Then what're you here for?" he asked.

"My wife's having a baby," I replied politely.

There was a sharp intake of breath around the room as I glanced down at Zoey, who was smiling at the child. The atmosphere seemed to get thicker as everyone now shifted their attention to her.

I could only imagine their thoughts- _"what's a girl like her doing with that_ thing _?" "Does she have one of those weird fetishes?" "Maybe that monster tricked her into marriage..."_

I pitied them for not being able to understand the sort of love that transcends physical appearance. For not seeing into our hearts, for judging us so quickly.

_Haven't these people ever read_ Beauty and the Beast _?_

"Are you sick?" I asked kindly. I was determined to prove that there was no need to be afraid of me.

Johnny looked uncomfortable and shook his head. "I'm here for a shot."

"Oh. Well that's not too bad," I mused.

"D-d'you think it'll hurt?" he asked tentatively.

I considered that for a moment before answering. This little boy was the only person in this room courageous enough to address me like I was normal, rather than whispering and pointing at me like I was some sort of zoo exhibit.

"For a brave boy like you? I think you'll be just fine," I told him honestly.

Johnny grinned, revealing several missing teeth.

This exchange seemed to be too much for his mother, who appeared to be on the verge of an apoplectic fit. "Johnny,  _get over here_ ," she snapped.

"I think your mother needs you," I murmured, gesturing to the woman in question.

"Right. Sorry for bothering you, Mister," Johnny mumbled, scuffing his shoes on the floor.

"It's ok," I assured him, with a small smile. "Good luck."

He made his way back over to his mother, who grabbed him roughly by the arm and started whispering furiously to him about talking to "freaks."

"Mrs. McCoy?" a nurse called out.

I stood and helped Zoey up, glancing around as I did so.

Johnny's mother looked sickened still, but a few of the other people in the waiting room now regarded me with slightly less disdain after my positive interaction with the child.

One of the ladies even smiled at me as I offered Zoey my arm. That one friendly gesture filled me with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

_Maybe Zoey was right..._

The nurse waiting for us looked startled, but made no comments about me as she led us to an exam room. I did make her nervous, though- she had to take Zoey's pulse twice because she was too busy focusing on me.

"The doctor will be with you shortly," she announced, before scampering out of the room.

I let out a long, slow breath after she left.

"This _is_  going better than I thought it would," I admitted to Zoey. "It's no picnic, but..."

"Let's not get too cocky just yet," Zoey mused. "Not until we walk out of this room and there's no armed mob standing in the lobby."

I just stared at her, horrified.

"Hank, I'm  _joking_. Maybe it's harder for you because you've seen the worst in humanity, but I want to believe people can change their minds if you show them the truth," she explained earnestly. "Just think of what you're-"

A knock sounded on the door, and Dr. Stevenson entered.

"Hello, you two," he said genially.

Though his eyes flared slightly when he saw me, he gave no other reaction. I surmised that the nurse had warned him.

"Hello, Doctor," Zoey greeted him.

Dr. Stevenson asked some questions about her general well-being, and concluded that everything was going well so far (to my relief).

But then his expression became uncomfortable.

"I-I hate to ask such a personal question, but- did something happen to you, Dr. McCoy?" he asked tentatively.

I cringed. "I began expressing a secondary mutation," I told him, deciding on the simplest explanation. "I'm a mutant."

"We both are," Zoey added, watching the man carefully. "Will that be a problem, Doctor?"

I think her steely expression unnerved him slightly, because he shook his head quickly.

"It's just good to know, for the delivery," Dr. Stevenson explained lamely. "Why don't we take a look?"

This was the part we were both looking forward to: seeing the baby for the first time.

I held Zoey's hand after she unbuttoned her blouse and laid down, eagerly waiting for the doctor to get a good look with the wand on her stomach.

Dr. Stevenson chuckled suddenly. "Well, well," he muttered, flipping a switch.

I grinned as a  _thump-thump_  sound filled the room, feeling awash with joy as I heard my baby's heartbeat for the first time.

But then I frowned.

_Wait... do I hear-?_

"Congratulations," Dr. Stevenson announced, turning the screen towards us-

Revealing two little sea monkeys.

_Two._

"You're having twins!"


	69. Moving Forward

**Moving Forward**

"What do you hope they are?" Zoey asked after dinner that night, while she was painting her toenails. "The twins, I mean."

I considered that for a moment, grinning happily.

Twins. We were having  _twins._ Two baby boys or girls- or maybe even one of each. I honestly couldn't decide which I would prefer. I just wanted to meet them already.

"I just hope they're healthy," I finally replied.

"You're no fun. Even though you  _do_ have a point," Zoey admitted. She stuck her feet off the edge of the couch and wiggled her toes, trying to dry them. "I'm going to miss you when I can't see you anymore, toes."

I snorted, picturing her with a beach ball-sized baby bump. All things considered, it was probably less of a joke and more of an actual prediction.

Zoey then proceeded to lay down with her feet sticking off the side of the couch and her head in my lap, her eyes closed. I reached down and lovingly caressed her face in silence for a long moment, smiling when she let out a little sigh of contentment.

Lucie and Charlie were snuggled up together on the sofa cushion next to me, and Sidney had weaseled his way in between Zoey and the back rest.

All was peaceful here, shut away from the world outside and their negative opinions. It was moments like these in which I wished I could freeze time just so I could hold onto that serenity.

"How did you feel about today?" Zoey murmured eventually, opening her eyes.

"Honestly? It went much better than I thought it would," I told her.

After Dr. Stevenson took a sonogram picture for us of our babies, he told us to make an appointment to come back in five weeks so we could try to see what sex the twins were. The receptionist had still been borderline terrified out of her mind about me, but no one tried to make a scene or anything.

_I'll take that over an angry mob any day._

"I could tell they were all afraid of me, but not enough to run away. And that little boy seemed to like me plenty."

Zoey gave me a rather sad smile. "Kids are great like that, I think," she mused. "They don't understand prejudice until their parents teach it to them."

I nodded slowly in agreement.

"You'll show this town, Hank," she declared fiercely. "Just be yourself, and you'll show everyone what a normal, kind person you are despite everything. They'll  _have_  to accept you."

_If only it could be that easy._

* * *

I practically had the sonogram picture glued to my hand for the first few days after the doctor's appointment because I wanted to proudly show off our babies to everyone I knew. I couldn't tell who was more over the moon about the twins- Marceline, for getting two grandbabies, or Olivia.

"How are you doing, Livie?" I asked her seriously after she stopped squealing with delight over the prospect of getting two cousins instead of one.

She immediately sobered and looked down at her feet. "I'll be ok," she said finally, after a moment's thought. "My daddy is a bad man, Uncle Hank."

"But he's still your father, Livie," I argued. And then I wanted to bite my tongue off.

Olivia shrugged. "He doesn't want to be anymore."

The pathos of that one statement practically ripped my heart out. It made me regret not making Grey suffer more before I let him go, especially when I considered the sonogram picture in my pocket. What kind of man acts that way towards his child over something they can't even help?

_Someone who's not a man, that's who. I will_ never  _do something like that._

"I really will be ok, Uncle Hank. You're such a worrywart," Olivia chided.

And then she gave me a big hug and walked away.

* * *

That Saturday we took advantage of the nice weather and open houses on the market to go look for a new place to live.

Having two babies on the way made it even more imperative that we move into a bigger home- especially before Zoey got too far along in her pregnancy. I knew how grumpy she would get if she had to just sit there and not help with the moving process. Especially in her library.

I also knew how picky she could be, and for that reason I expected to resign myself to a  _very_  long day of house-hunting.

So imagine my surprise when Zoey got all starry-eyed as soon as we walked into the first house, bright and early in the morning before anyone else was really around.

It was a two story, four bedroom and three and a half bathroom Victorian-style dwelling, so big that it practically constituted a mansion. Out front was a large covered front porch complete with a gazebo, as well as a second story veranda.

Inside there was a family room (with a fireplace), a living room ("this could be my library!" Zoey gushed), and a sun room ("imagine how much the cats would love all these windows!"), as well as a spacious kitchen, breakfast room, dining room, powder room and utility room.

"We don't need both a breakfast room  _and_  a dining room," she concluded after our tour of the downstairs. "I think it would be a nice office for you, don't you think?"

I laughed at the way she was already planning everything out. "If you say so, sweetheart."

All four of the bedrooms were upstairs. They were all quite spacious and certainly nice enough, but the moment we stepped into the master bedroom I knew, without a doubt, that we were getting this house.

My fire fairy wouldn't be able to resist having a fireplace in her bedroom. Or all the windows in the large sitting area, along with the huge bathtub and big walk-in closet in the bathroom. The nail in the coffin was the small staircase next to the fireplace just outside that led to a little covered loft balcony area. It was perfect for star-gazing.

"Hank-" Zoey began. She was practically glowing with excitement.

"Let's go see about the asking price," I told her simply.

And then I swept her up into my arms and gave her a kiss.

* * *

There had surprisingly been no incidents of overt prejudice towards me in the almost two weeks since I stopped using my serum.

Sure, I got a lot of frightened looks, and sometimes people saw me coming and immediately turned around and went in the opposite direction. The realtor had almost urinated on himself when I sniffed him out in the kitchen to ask about buying the house last Saturday.

But mostly the people of Salem Center were content to leave me be if I returned the favor.

I knew something would happen sooner or later though, so it wasn't really a surprise when it did.

It was a Thursday, and as per usual we were at Marceline's Cafe.

Zoey was still looking for her book of the week among the shelves while I waited at the counter chatting with Billy about the house we were buying.

"We're signing the closing paperwork next Friday," I told him.

"Congratulations, kid," Billy said sincerely. "When do you plan on moving in?"

"Hopefully next weekend," I replied. "I was wondering if I could borrow your truck?"

"Sure," he agreed. "Won't you need a moving company, though?"

Clearly, Billy didn't realize just how strong I was, especially now. Even without my second mutation I had still been able to lift the front end of a muscle car with relative ease. In my Beast form I could take the same car and throw it like a shot put without breaking a sweat.

_And then Alex and Zoey would kill me for destroying one of their sacred automobiles._

"I can handle it," I said simply.

Billy chuckled at himself. "Right. I forgot," he joked, gesturing towards me.

It seemed like a throwaway statement, but him saying that was actually quite pleasing to me. The more people who forgot what I looked like and treated me like a normal person, the better I felt.

Zoey approached the counter just then, carrying a copy of  _Jaws,_ by Peter Benchley.

"Sweetheart, you already have that book," I told her gently. "After you read it you told me we were never going to the beach again, remember?"

"Really?" she asked blankly, staring at the cover. "Oh, right. Duh."

And then she wandered towards the bookshelves once more, muttering to herself.

I turned back to Billy, trying to fight off a smile. He looked like he was trying to hold back laughter as well.

"Pregnancy brain fog?" he suggested sagely.

I shrugged unhelpfully, not wanting to incriminate myself.

"Hey!" Zoey griped at that moment from over by the bookshelves. "I heard that! And I'll have you know, I'm growing  _two_  babies here. Cut me some slack."

Billy and I both started laughing at her righteous indignation as she stood there with her hands on her hips and an adorable pouty expression on her face.

I loved her so much, even when she was grumpy.

But then I stopped chuckling rather quickly because there was a tinkling sound over by the door at that moment, indicating a new customer had just come in. I didn't want the newcomer to startle and misinterpret my laughter as something else, like roaring.

Oh, and I was also afraid that if I kept it up Zoey would randomly burst into tears.

Sometimes lately she would start weeping for little to no reason, leaving me scrambling to figure out how to make her feel better because I hated to see her cry.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I begged once, holding her close.

"Sid ate part of my sandwich," she sobbed, like it was the end of the world.

"I'll go make you a new one," I promised.

Because God forbid I suggest that she eat around where the cat nibbled on it. That made too much sense.

And then she would get a hold of herself, feeling completely mortified, and apologize for crying in the first place.

_The babies,_  I'd already decided,  _have taken control of my wife's brain. At least there's only twenty-nine weeks left._

I felt so bad for her- if  _I_  was having trouble just _witnessing_ it, I could only imagine how exhausting it was to actually go through so many emotional extremes in quick succession.

_"Ahem,"_  a man's voice interjected pointedly behind me, cutting into my thoughts. "Are you going to order, freak, or not?"

_Uh oh._


	70. The Heart of a Man

**The Heart of a Man**

The man spoke loud enough that his voice carried across the entire tiny shop.

I felt every pair of eyes in the room sweep over to burn holes in the back of my head as the echo of his statement faded from the air. Even the patrons who had warily tolerated my presence for the past several minutes were now probably expecting me to turn around and rip the man's arms off or something.

Billy frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but I quickly shook my head.

There was no need for him to possibly lose business over me by so overtly taking my side in this situation. Not if I could avert a messy scene before it even started.

I turned slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements. "I'm sorry, sir," I said politely. "I'm not quite ready to order yet. Please, go ahead."

The man sneered at me as I stepped aside for him.

He was middle-aged and balding, and something about the lines on his face spoke to the fact that he was no stranger to frowning or all around surliness in general.

"Can you believe they let something like that in town?" he commiserated to Billy, jerking his head towards me like I wasn't standing  _right there_.

My fists clenched, but otherwise I gave no outward sign of the turmoil raging in my soul. I knew this would happen eventually, but that didn't mean I welcomed the derision.

It hurt- of course it did- to be treated like some sort of lesser being who didn't even warrant basic courtesy, a creature who couldn't understand the venomous words being thrown my way. It was time to start developing a thick skin, apparently.

" _I_  don't have a problem with him," Billy responded in a cold voice.

"Really?" the man demanded incredulously. He seemed genuinely surprised that his rancor was not shared.

_Oh, no. Here we go._

"No. Now, are you going to order, sir, or not?" Billy asked testily.

"Look at it, though," the newcomer persisted, turning towards me and eyeing me with evident disdain. "It's some kind of monster or something. How do we know he doesn't go around at night and-"

_"'There is many a monster who wears the form of a man; it is better of the two to have the heart of a man and the form of a monster,"'_  Zoey cut in, suddenly appearing at my side.

She slipped her arm into mine and looked at the ignorant bigot in front of us with cool contempt.

"Zoey-" I pleaded, feeling very mindful of the way everyone in the shop was watching us with rapt attention.

"I think we can tell which category you fall into," she continued, choosing to ignore me.

I knew exactly what she was thinking. " _If this guy wants to start problems, I will_ finish  _them. With gusto."_

Have I mentioned that my wife scared me sometimes? In a good way, though.

"Especially considering how you walked in here and started insulting someone who was politely minding their own business. If he really was the 'monster' you claim him to be, he would've back-handed you across the room by now," Zoey scolded. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

The man gaped at her, open-mouthed, as his eyes darted from the possessive way Zoey clutched at my arm to the swell of her belly. Though she was only eleven weeks along, Zoey's pregnancy had already become rather obvious given her petite frame and the fact that she was carrying twins.

His expression quickly morphed into one of disgust.

" _You're_  the one who should be ashamed," he hissed.

And then he spat at my wife's feet.

I'll give myself some credit here. My hand twitched, ready to grab him by the throat and throw him through the front window, but I managed to stop myself.

As it was, my lips curled to reveal my fangs as I told him through gritted teeth, "that was completely uncalled for. You need to apologize."

"Why don't you make me, monster?" he taunted, trying to goad me further.

"Alright, that's enough," Billy snapped before I could reply. "Get out."

"Me?" the man asked blankly. He looked completely shocked. After all,  _he_  was the human-looking one here- apparently he thought that put him in the right by default.

"Yes,  _you_ ," Billy replied. "You're causing a disturbance. Now get out of my shop."

"But-"

" _Out_ ," Billy ordered. "Or do I need to call the cops?"

"Fine. But I'm definitely not coming back here again," the man spat out. "And I'll make sure to tell everyone I know to avoid your mutant-loving business from now on."

"You do that," Billy retorted. "I don't want to serve ignorant bigots, anyway."

His next words were spoken to the room at large.

"And anyone  _else_  who has a problem with mutants can leave now, too," he declared.

The intruder scoffed, spun on his heel and stalked out the door, purposely knocking over a stand of coffee beans on the way. The little bags went flying and scattered all over the floor.

Zoey immediately moved to go pick up the mess, but I gently stopped her.

"Go finish picking out your book, sweetheart," I said, my voice carefully controlled. "If you don't mind, I want to go home."

She nodded mutely and went back to the bookcases.

"I'll get it, Mr. Rivers," I told him.

After all, the disturbance was basically my fault, because of my presence here. And now Billy might lose business because of me...

I silently seethed over all of it as I picked up the bags of coffee beans. The only thing that kept me from flying to pieces over the whole situation was the fact that none of the patrons in the shop took Billy up on his ultimatum.

Actually, the only person who left afterwards- just as I was finishing with the clean up- stopped on the way out and handed me a bag I'd missed.

"Missed one," he said, with a friendly smile. "And just so you know- if I was you, I would've punched that asshole in the face. Good for you for being the better person."

The better  _person_. He'd called me a person.

For a moment I could only stare at him disbelievingly. But then I recovered myself.

"Th-thank you," I stammered.

"No problem."

I trudged back over to the counter once I was done.

"I'm really sorry," I told Billy.

He waved off the apology. "Don't be, kid. You're fine. That prick started it."

I still saw a flicker of worry in his faded blue eyes, despite the reassurance. I'm sure it was reflected in my own expression.

Watching Zoey go toe-to-toe with a mutant-hating bigot was deeply upsetting, though she'd more than held her own. I hated that she had to go through that, for me.

Theoretically, I'd thought I was prepared to handle it. But seeing her fight for me first-hand, having someone treat her with such disrespect...

_Is she better off without me?_

The thought made my blood run cold as we drove home, and didn't fade as I set about cooking dinner- fettuccine alfredo, which (surprise) Zoey would be placing between two pieces of Italian bread.

"What's wrong, darling?" Zoey asked after we sat down to eat. She looked at me with obvious disquiet. "Are you mad at me?"

Her question pulled me out of my melancholy musings immediately. "What? Of course not," I replied incredulously. "Why would I be?"

"Because I butted in and basically took over that entire situation instead of letting you handle it," she explained sheepishly. " _You_  may take that stuff lying down, but I can't."

"I'm not mad at you, Zoey."

_Just rethinking whether or not I can stand putting you through all of this._

"Then what's wrong, Hank?" she pressed, her concern growing. "Talk to me."

I looked down at my plate, unable to bring myself to say it. To even suggest to Zoey that while  _she_  might be strong enough to deal with this, I couldn't bear to watch.

But apparently I didn't have to, because realization quickly dawned on her face as I struggled to find the words.

"Don't you dare," Zoey whispered, putting down the remains of her pasta sandwich. "Hank- don't you  _dare_  hate yourself for any of this. I can handle it, so don't fret about that, ok? I'm not going anywhere, and you can't make me."

I nodded noncommittally, though her words were slowly working their magic on me.

Truly, how dare I try to say what was "best" for Zoey? Only she could decide that. Even if watching her shield me from the world's hatred made me sick to my stomach, I would never have the right to tell her she was better off without me, that she should leave.

Being apart was even more unacceptable. To both of us.

She reached out and took my hand in hers, threading our fingers together. Her eyes were luminous, bathing me in that special warmth only she possessed.

"You're worth it, you know," Zoey said seriously. " _All_  of it. I'm so proud of you, Hank. You're much stronger than you give yourself credit for. I mean, you were  _amazing_  today. The way you just took it from that guy without lashing out? I know  _I_  was a split second from lighting his hair on fire, but what you did,  _that's_  the way to win people's hearts and minds."

I almost wanted to protest, but then I remembered the man who'd stopped to speak to me on his way out of the shop.

_Good for you, for being the better person..._

"You know, I've been thinking," Zoey began hesitantly. "You said you wanted to change the world, right? For our babies?"

"Yes," I agreed warily.

"Well, did you ever consider becoming an activist or a lobbyist for mutant rights?"

I blinked.

"Think about it, darling," Zoey reasoned. "You're intelligent, kind, and honest. We could use more public figures like you, don't you think?  _And_  you have a physical mutation. You'd be a perfect representative for mutants everywhere."

It was difficult not to laugh in her face at the very suggestion.

_Me_? Some sort of "poster boy" for mutant rights? I could barely speak to a classroom of children, let alone a crowd of strangers. There was no way I could ever do such a thing.

Was there?

"Let's just focus on getting the people of this town to tolerate me, first," I murmured. "This was just one incident. There's no need to get ahead of ourselves."

Zoey nodded, acquiescing to my obvious reluctance.

One of the (many) things I loved about her was how supportive she always was of my decisions. She wasn't going to push me into anything I didn't want to do. And I didn't want to be some sort of mutant rights activist.

Yet.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote Zoey used is attributed to Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont's version of Beauty and the Beast.


	71. Zoey's Big Move

**Zoey's Big Move**

"This has to be the craziest thing you've ever done," I muttered.

"I would argue that inviting my borderline stalker into my apartment for dinner alone after speaking to him for only five minutes was much more insane," Zoey retorted, giving me a mischievous grin.

I winced, remembering our rather unorthodox beginning.

_Touche, I suppose._

At least we could laugh about it now.

She sighed. "They're going to find out eventually, Hank. This is being proactive."

We were currently sitting in Zoey's office, waiting for her company's board of directors to congregate down the hall for a meeting.

A meeting in which Zoey would inform them that yes, her husband was indeed a mutant, and so was she. And they should otherwise mind their own business about us.

Gwen, being the good friend and secretary she was, had been keeping her ears peeled for any rumblings from the board about my sudden change in appearance via the other secretaries.

She didn't even have to seek out the information- it basically came to her in whispers from the other women. Rumored sightings of Dubois Enterprises' CEO out and about in Salem Center with a giant, blue ape had quickly begun to circulate around the office.

_"Gwen, do you have any idea what's going on?"_

_"What happened to that dish with the glasses she was married to?"_

_"You know Mr. Burton has always hated Dr. McCoy. Well, I heard him talking to Mr. Ryan about-"_

It had taken a month of me being "out," but the rumors were starting to gain too much traction for Zoey's comfort.

When the news reached her that one of her board members- Frank Burton, always her biggest critic- was going to make a move of no confidence against her on the basis of moral grounds, Zoey decided to approach the issue in a typical "Zoey" manner: by addressing the problem head-on and then kicking it in the teeth.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

"I'm thinking about telling them I'm a mutant, too," she'd said when she first approached me about ending the rumors.

It had been less than a week since we moved into our new house. Our  _first_  house, where we would be bringing our babies home after they were born.

"Why?" I'd asked blankly.

"Because I hate people looking at me like I'm 'normal,' like I'm somehow betraying the human race by being with you," Zoey had replied. "I'm just as much a mutant as you, and I don't want to hide it anymore."

"B-but hasn't this been bad enough?" I'd argued, referring to all the stares and sneers we already got. "Zoey, you could lose your company."

"Then I'll lose it," she'd retorted. "If I haven't been a good enough leader to keep that boardroom's loyalty despite what I am, I  _deserve_  to lose it. I really want to do this, Hank."

That shut me up, of course.

She wanted to proclaim herself a mutant as a show of solidarity with me, and she was willing to risk the company her family had built over five generations to do it.

I was admittedly terrified at the prospect- it would be just one more way that I wrecked Zoey's life, when all I ever wanted was for her to be happy.

But I swallowed my guilt and resolved to support her decisions, just as she did mine.

And so here we were, waiting for Zoey to come clean to her boardroom about both of us. She'd told me I didn't have to be there, but I wanted to be. For support, moral or otherwise.

A quiet knocked sounded on the door at that moment, and Gwen poked her head in.

"Show time, boss lady," she announced. Though she gave us a smile, it didn't quite mask the worry in her eyes.

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," Zoey muttered as she stood up.

"Yeah, I know. But it suits you."

My wife rolled her eyes and linked her arm in mine. "Ready?"

I didn't trust myself to speak, so instead I just nodded.

All three of us were silent until we reached the conference room door.

"Good luck, Zo," Gwen whispered, giving her friend a hug. "You can do this."

"Thanks."

Zoey stood on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to my lips and took a deep breath. I did the same.

_Here goes everything. Literally._

The five men that comprised Zoey's board of directors all politely got to their feet as their CEO entered the room. Their eyes bugged out of their heads when they saw me trailing behind Gwen.

The two of us sat on chairs pushed up against the wall, away from the large table that was the centerpiece of the room and essentially my wife's domain.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Zoey greeted the board genially. "Please, take your seats."

I noticed Burton exchange pointed glances with Ryan as they sat down. I recognized both of them from the horrifically dull company Christmas parties I'd dutifully attended over the years at Zoey's side.

_Maybe now that I look like this I can be excused? Wouldn't_ that  _be a silver lining..._

"I called this meeting because it's come to my attention that there's some dissension in the ranks," Zoey announced, perfectly calm. "And I thought I would give all of you the opportunity to clear the air."

Dead silence.

No one spoke aloud, though all five of them kept looking furtively at me.

Mr. Evers, a rabbity-looking man, actually jumped a little when I shifted my weight- like he thought I was getting ready to spring at him. I almost rolled my eyes.

_Sir, if I wanted to attack you, I'd move so fast you wouldn't even see me._

Zoey sighed and leaned against the back rest of her chair, determined to wait them out.

Finally, Burton spoke. But it wasn't the requested airing of grievances.

"Who's the mutant?" he asked, gesturing towards me.

"He's my husband," Zoey answered promptly. She looked over at me with love evident in her eyes. "He had an accident that made his mutation express itself more strongly, but that doesn't change anything for me. He's still the best man a wife could ever ask for."

I gave her a tiny smile in reply, ignoring the way everyone else was fidgeting uncomfortably in their seats.

_Right back at you, my love._

Zoey turned back to her board of directors, her expression becoming thoughtful.

"Seven years," she mused. "It's been almost seven years since my father died and left me this company. I'd like to think I've done a good job of it so far. I mean, our profits have more than tripled, we've diversified our holdings, become a Fortune 500 company... And all of you have become very rich men."

You could've heard a pin drop in that boardroom. None of the men at the table seemed to know where she was going with this little speech.

But I did.

"I don't think  _any_  of us expected it to go so well. I imagine some of you were just waiting for me to drop the ball somehow. Change is hard to accept, and in a way I can understand that," Zoey said, laughing softly. "I had a lot to live up to in your eyes, coming in here after my dad."

Her smile turned nostalgic. "My father was a good man, a leader worthy of the respect you gentlemen gave him. I remember wondering if I would ever have the ability to command a board like he did, back when I was younger. I would sit there in the corner of this room and listen to your meetings during the summer. Do you remember that?" she asked, looking at each man in turn. "You watched me grow up, from when I was a little girl until now. I know I would never have gotten this far if it weren't for all of you, and the trust you put, not only in my father's memory, but in  _me_  as well."

I tensed up, because I knew the big reveal had to be coming soon.

"You've known me since I was a child, and I've led us to prosperity. So, with that in mind..." Zoey began.

She cupped her hands together. A little bird made of flames formed in her palms and took flight, flitting around the room for thirty seconds before it dissipated.

"I'm a mutant. I have been, for my whole life. Does knowing that really change anything?"

The responses differed, though the same element of surprise and bewilderment was evident in every man's expression. Otherwise, they varied from a sort of horrified disgust (Mr. Burton) to an almost amused fascination (Mr. James, always Zoey's strongest supporter on the board). Zoey, Gwen and I waited tensely for their emotions to be arranged into words.

Burton jumped to his feet. "You're a freak!" he cried. I could see him looking at the others, as if hoping to spark some sort of righteous outrage he could use to his advantage. "We can't let-"

"Oh, save it," Mr. James snapped, regarding his colleague coldly now that he'd recovered from his surprise. "The knowledge of Dr. McCoy being a mutant changes nothing. She's still the best CEO this company has ever had."

"I agree," Mr. Greene added simply.

Burton turned to Mr. Ryan, his last hope, his cohort in the scheme to lock Zoey out of the boardroom on moral grounds.

But the other man seemed to have been moved by Zoey's masterfully worded speech. Her reminders of the success she'd led them to and her nostalgic appeals to her father's memory had worked wonders on Mr. Ryan, just as she'd intended.

"Dr. McCoy, did you father know you were a mutant?" he asked carefully.

"Yes, sir."

I held my breath, waiting for his pronouncement. If Ryan deferred, Mr. Evers- always easily led- would go along with the majority. And then Burton would have no allies.

Zoey's company would be safe.

"And he still trusted you enough to leave this company to you. That's enough for me," Mr. Ryan announced simply.

_Yes! She's got them._

"Thank you," Zoey said warmly. "Mr. Burton, do you still have any objections to my leadership? Moral or otherwise?"

Burton's face was an ugly shade of puce as he sullenly shook his head and re-took his seat. He'd been thoroughly defeated, and he knew it.

"Wonderful. Now, on to other business..."

My heart swelled with pride as I watched Zoey effortlessly handle the rest of her meeting. She was amazing, incredible...

With her by my side, perhaps anything was possible.


	72. Step Two

**Step Two**

Zoey's courageous stand in her boardroom did not stay secret for long- such things had a way of getting out, I suppose. The news of a mutant, female CEO of a successful company and her strange-looking husband soon spread like wildfire throughout the United States.

First it was just in the local media- the town newspaper, the radio- but then things really took off. Our phone began to ring from people asking for interviews with both of us. There was an article in the  _New York Times_  about us (though we declined to speak to any reporters), and all three major television networks (and PBS) wanted to do pieces on our lives.

"Like I'm going to talk to CBS," Zoey muttered scornfully. "And don't you dare talk to them either, Hank. I'm still mad that they cancelled  _Star Trek_."

* * *

"I'm so sorry," Zoey whispered miserably one night a few weeks after her big reveal.

We were spooning in bed together because her tummy had already gotten too big for her to sleep with her head on my chest, the way she used to. Now she used my arm as a pillow, while my other hand rested on her belly.

"I didn't mean for us to get all this attention, for everyone to start wanting to talk to us. Maybe if we just keep avoiding the calls, they'll give up."

I considered that for a long moment.

The media scrutiny wasn't exactly welcome, but as the days wore on my thoughts had begun to stray more and more to Zoey's suggestion all those weeks ago. That I become some sort of representative for mutant kind, an activist to help our people.

At first I thought it was a ridiculous idea. But then, as the weeks passed, people in Salem Center had become much more open to me. The other day a little old lady who had issues grabbing a can of mushroom soup from the top shelf in the grocery store had thanked me warmly when I helped her. Like I was just a normal person.

It was just as Zoey said. Through kindness and sincerity, I was slowly winning them over- changing my little corner of the world, one person at a time.

But after seeing Zoey's bravery, her willingness to risk her company in order to be true to herself... I started to feel like I was being cowardly for not dreaming bigger, for not trying to achieve equality for mutants and humans everywhere.

Since the "discovery" of mutants during the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, we'd been an eyesore to the American consciousness. After that incident people knew we existed, but mostly preferred to pretend that we didn't. We made them uncomfortable, made them question their places in the universe. If mutants were "the next step" in evolution, where did that leave the regular human Joe's and Jane's of society?

It was better for us to be out of sight and out of mind, mostly for our own protection. The idea that mutants be included in the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was barely even entertained for the simple fact that there wasn't enough awareness or advocacy for us. Those of us who had a choice hid our mutations rather than face the inevitable discrimination.

We were people, but...  _not_ , still. Mutants were something  _other_ \- especially those of us with physical mutations, like me.

It didn't help that any news coverage mutants had gotten since then was negative. The hate and vitriol the Friends of Humanity loved to spew out gave us a lot of bad press, and at this point there was no counter-argument against them.

The random acts of violence Erik and his Brotherhood committed occasionally in the name of mutant rights also didn't help our public image. He still whole-heartedly believed that a war was coming, and it was safer for mutants if we struck first.

It was as if he was too tone-deaf to realize that humans would really prefer to just ignore us- like the dust bunnies you couldn't reach to sweep up in the corners of your house. Did you like them being there? Not really. But as long as they didn't somehow end up in your food they didn't particularly bother you.

So after over a decade of poor publicity, Zoey's admission had obviously come as a bit of a shock to the American psyche.

From what anyone could tell, here was this young couple with a beautiful house, nice cars, good jobs, and a baby on the way... All in all, they were completely upstanding citizens living the proverbial "American Dream."

And they just so happened to be mutants.

For the first time, the American public seemed to be questioning their long-held opinions of our kind. Despite our differences, physical or no, perhaps mutants were people just like everyone else?

Even if some disagreed, the fact that there were people out there who were even considering it was important. It was like suddenly society was ready to have a conversation about mutants that it had never had before.

And now here was the perfect opportunity presenting itself to reach more people with our message- that mutants were people too, no matter how outlandish and frightening some of us appeared to be.

How foolish and selfish would I be if I didn't take advantage of this, when I could ultimately help so many people? My self-consciousness meant nothing in the scope of such things.

"It's ok," I finally assured Zoey. "Actually, I think we  _should_  do an interview, so everyone can see how normal we are."

"What?"

She rolled over onto her back, so she could see my face. I kept my expression impassive as Zoey eyed me incredulously, squinting to see in the dark.

"Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

I opened my mouth to make some kind of witty retort, but quickly closed it. My suggestion  _was_  decidedly unlike myself, after all. Zoey had a reason to be skeptical.

"I've been thinking..." I began instead. "About what you said, about me becoming some sort of mutant activist. I know I told you I didn't want to- I'm not even sure if I  _can_ \- but this is an opportunity that shouldn't be wasted. For the first time, people are open to learning about mutants. What if we can use this media attention to show them the truth about us? I'm not saying we'll succeed, but I want to at least  _try_. We owe that to our children."

Zoey regarded me silently for a moment before nodding slowly. "Ok," she agreed, smiling. "Though I never thought I'd see the day when you would  _ask_  to go talk to strangers."

"I know," I replied dryly.

She slowly reached one hand up to stroke my cheek, playing with my facial hair. I turned my head to kiss her fingertips in response.

"You make me proud, everyday, to call myself your wife, Hank McCoy," Zoey said sincerely, making my cheeks turn purple. "Just so you know."

I grinned sheepishly and leaned in for a kiss- a kiss that quickly intensified into something fiercer, more passionate as she grabbed me and pulled me in for more. I responded eagerly, letting my hands wander all over as hers did the same.

Zoey's hormones had vacillated so widely lately, thanks to her pregnancy, that sometimes I felt I was just along for the ride.

But when  _this_  particular mood caught hold I was more than happy to go along.

My hand drifted down her front, lightly caressing with my claws to make her shiver in the way I loved to watch-

And then Zoey groaned, breaking into our heated moment.

"Hold on, I have to go pee," she muttered, sounding quite disgruntled as she got out of bed and tottered over to the bathroom.

"Didn't you just go before bed?" I called to her, feeling rather... ahem,  _disappointed_.

"Yeah, but then I rolled over and the sea monkeys decided to sit on my bladder."

_Oh, the joys of being pregnant. Thank heavens I'm a man._

* * *

"So do you know what the babies are yet?" Olivia asked.

"No," I replied dejectedly. "They weren't turned the right way during the ultrasound."

She gave me a disappointed frown. "That sucks. I want to know!"

_Hey. And I don't?_

"Are you going to try again?" Chloe queried curiously.

"Probably not. We'll just think of two names of both genders," I explained, with a heavy sigh. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

When I told Olivia that Zoey and I had an interview on  _The Today Show_  the following week, she'd immediately squinted at me doubtfully and announced that I was going to need some practice.

"I don't think I-"

"Yes, you do, Uncle Hank," Olivia had interjected.

"But-"

"I'm not letting you embarrass me on national television!" she'd snapped. "You're practicing. Deal with it."

"I think you just want to pretend to be a reporter," I'd muttered peevishly.

_She would actually be the world's best reporter,_ I admitted to myself.  _Just a brush of the hand and she'd have the whole story._

So here we were, getting ready to humor Olivia and "practice" in a sun room at the Institute. I was going to be me, Olivia was Barbara Walters, and Chloe would be our audience.

Chloe was now living at the Institute, in a nice little room close to Olivia's dorm. Chloe had told Zoey to rent out their childhood home, because she simply couldn't bear to live there anymore after those awful years with her husband.

Charles had happily given her employment as an attendant for the younger students' free time and a place to live, so Chloe could start rebuilding her life. Olivia and her mother were becoming much closer following Nicholas' suicide, leaning on each other and building a strong relationship that hadn't existed before.

I think it helped that Chloe had by now whole-heartedly accepted mutants, no matter what their forms.

"So, Dr. McCoy, tell me about yourself," Olivia prompted, folding her hands and looking at me seriously- just like Barbara Walters.

I shrugged. "Not much to tell."

She scowled at me.

"What?" I said defensively. "I don't want to talk about me. I just want to talk about mutant rights."

"That part comes  _later_ ," Olivia retorted. "First, the public wants to know about  _you_. Who you are, what you're like. Otherwise they're not going to care about what you have to say. Right, Mama?"

Chloe smiled indulgently. "Right, darling."

I sighed. "Fine. I'm Hank McCoy. I'm a twenty-nine year old mutant. I live with my beautiful wife and her nosy cats, and at the end of November we're having twins. I've also got a niece who is terrified that I'll make a fool of myself here and who also idolizes you, Ms. Walters. Could I have your autograph?"

Olivia giggled. "Ok, ok. Maybe you're not as hopeless as I thought."


	73. The Definition of Bravery

**The Definition of Bravery**

After the bothersome interview practice Olivia put me through (her final verdict? "I guess you'll do." Not exactly a ringing endorsement), Charles called me to his office.

"Ah, Hank- have a seat," he told me genially. "I hear that you and Zoey are going to be giving some sort of interview on the telly next week?"

"We are," I replied, sitting down. "On  _The Today Show._ "

For a long moment Charles said nothing. He just stared at me, fighting off a smile and practically  _radiating_  self-satisfaction and smugness.

I sighed. "Just say what you're going to say, Charles."

"When I heard of all the media scrutiny your wife's bold move was attracting, I began to contemplate asking you to step forward and parley the attention into something productive, like you becoming a sort of spokesman for mutants," he began slowly. "But I resisted, because-"

"You didn't think I had it in me?" I guessed, grinning wryly. "I can't say I blame you. I'm still not sure myself."

"No! Hank, not at all," Charles admonished me. His rather light-hearted expression became a serious frown, though not like he was displeased. "I've always known you were capable of much more than you give yourself credit for. I just knew that it was a lot to ask- more, I think, than anything else I've ever requested of you. And the fact that you stepped forward, on your own-"

He smiled happily.

"To think of how far you've come from the shy young man who balked at leaving his laboratory... you've exceeded all of my wildest expectations," he said simply. "It makes me so proud to call a brave man such as you my friend, Hank."

_Um..._

I looked down at my feet, feeling at an utter loss of how to reply to such evident sincerity. I feared it was horribly misplaced.

_"Brave,"_  Charles called me.

Brave? I didn't feel very brave- nor heroic or courageous in the slightest. I was scared out of my wits about putting myself on display for the public to scrutinize and possibly ridicule. But I was determined to do it, to use any means at my disposal to provide a better future for my children. To finally do something on my own- not because I was pushed into it, but because I  _wanted_  to.

Every step I'd taken until this point- from admitting to Zoey that I was her secret admirer, to showing her Beast, and then deciding to destroy my serum- had been  _reactive._

Nicholas Grey's interference at the cafe and Marceline's slip had revealed my identity to Zoey. Even my presence there in the first place was because Charles kicked me out of the laboratory and told me to get out more. Eventually I had been faced with the dilemma of showing Zoey the Beast or losing any chance of a future with her forever. And finally, the FOH's machinations had forced me into the destruction of my serum, in order to protect my wife and unborn children.

None of my choices, I felt, had truly been "choices" at all- with possibly the exception of when I decided to continue to go to Marceline's Cafe after Charles stopped prodding me into it. In the other instances I only changed when I faced no other options that would keep Zoey, the love of my life, with me and safe from harm. I was too selfish- I just couldn't bear to let her go.

But here, in this situation, I had a choice. I could either ignore the media attention we were getting, or use it to our advantage and try to change people's opinion of mutants. Zoey would be supportive of me and stay by my side through all of the prejudice we experienced on a daily basis until the other citizens of Salem Center got more used to me. I could settle for making the town safe enough for our babies, but this time...

This time I wanted more.

To be  _proactive_ , and not wait for circumstances to leave me no other alternatives. To take a chance because I _wanted_  to, and not because I had to. I wanted my children to know that their father did his best to give them a future where they could be themselves and still be safe. I wanted to give them the world.

But that didn't make me brave, by any stretch of the imagination.

"I'm not-" I finally began to say, but Charles cut me off.

"Oh, I'm sure you're nervous," he said, waving away my protests. "You've never been the sort who sought out attention- not even for your brightest accomplishments. But even though you're worried about what will happen when you invite the world's criticism like this, you're doing it anyway. Not for your own gratification or self-aggrandizement, but for the good of others."

He looked at me seriously.

"And that, my friend, is the very  _definition_  of bravery."

I still didn't agree with his assessment, but I chose not to correct him.

_After all,_ I thought to myself,  _there's really no use in arguing with telepaths._

* * *

"You nervous?" Zoey muttered.

"I think I'm beyond nervous," I admitted sheepishly. "Are you?"

Today was the big day. We were currently sitting together in a green room on the set of  _The Today Show_ , waiting for a producer to come fetch us for our interview a week after that conversation with Charles.

A little bit ago both Zoey and I had been in makeup chairs, getting "camera ready"- whatever that meant. The lady who was supposed to work on me took one look at my blue face, then another down at her array of flesh-toned makeup, and promptly gave up. She settled for brushing my hair and thanking me for being her easiest client, ever.

_Um... You're welcome?_

Though I was sure she was joking, it was still nice that she had been so pleasant about my unusual appearance.

The people here had been surprisingly kind thus far- but then, I wasn't exactly startling anyone. They knew exactly what was coming to speak to them today, and were prepared for the fuzzy blue creature that showed up with his gorgeous wife at their television studio looking rather bleary-eyed and sleepy at a godawful hour that morning.

"Me, too," Zoey agreed now. "I'm afraid I'm going to get out there and freeze up."

I let out a startled chuckle. " _You?_  I thought you were fearless."

She snorted and started to fiddle with her hair. "I'm afraid all the time," she retorted, smiling softly. "But I also know that wonderful things always start out scary."

My mind immediately thought back to how terrified I was to speak to Zoey all those years ago, when I thought I could never have a shot with her- and then how I constantly feared that at any moment she would realize she could go out with someone who had a lot less issues than I did and drop me like a hot potato.

_But now look at us. Happily married and two babies on the way. It certainly_ is  _wonderful._

I smiled in agreement and wordlessly leaned in to give her a kiss.

A few minutes later a producer tapped on the door and stuck his head inside. "Excuse me, folks, but they're ready for you," he told us amiably.

Both Zoey and I took deep breaths as we got to our feet. Zoey's grip on my arm as we walked out of the room threatened to cut off the circulation to my hand.

"Don't worry, everyone's always nervous," the producer said kindly as he ushered us onto the set. His next words were spoken in a whisper. "I hope you do well- I'm a mutant, too, and it'd be nice not to have to hide it anymore."

Zoey let out an anxious chuckle. "We'll do our best."

The enormity of what we were about to do hit me like a ton of bricks, almost locking my muscles in place. Mutants everywhere were waiting with baited breath (even at the Institute, where every classroom would have a television on this morning to watch our interview) to see how we would handle this, how we would present our kind to the rest of society.

If we wanted change, this was only the first step. We couldn't afford to falter at the very beginning.

_No pressure or anything. As if I weren't nervous enough..._

The producer gave us a hopeful little smile and helped us get mic'd up, with the assistance of an audio technician. I wanted to ask the man what his powers were, or if he had any advice, but I was afraid to mention it within earshot of anyone else.

By the time he directed us to go sit in the love seat across from Barbara Walters once she gave us our cue, it was too late to speak to him.

I didn't even know this man, but I felt a weight of responsibility towards him. He should be able to be himself in the workplace without fear of repercussions or prejudice, just like anyone else.

"Good luck," he murmured.

"Thanks," Zoey replied quietly. The look on her face told me she felt the same sense of duty for our kind.

Another producer was already beginning the final countdown-

"And three... two..."

He made gesture with his hand to indicate the feed was live.

"Welcome back," Ms. Walters said to the camera. "You might have heard about the young couple here in New York that is causing quite a stir for their open admission to being mutants. In a  _Today Show_ exclusive, I'm now going to ask them about the mutant perspective on today's society and get some answers to the burning questions you're sure to have. I'd like to welcome to the set Dr.s Hank and Zoey McCoy."

That was our cue.

_It's show time._


	74. Just People

**Just People**

Thankfully neither of us stumbled as we walked out onto the sound stage and shook Ms. Walters' hand (she didn't flinch a bit over my claws) before sitting down, so I took that as a minor victory.

"It's very nice to meet you both," Ms. Walters said, smiling amiably.

I wish I could say she was trying to put us at ease, but it didn't really feel that way. The gesture seemed to be more for the cameras than anything. She wanted to get to the question/answer part of the interview, rather than wasting time on the inane pleasantries.

"It's a pleasure to be here," I told her politely, returning her smile without showing my fangs.

_No fangs here, nope. I'm a big teddy bear, just ask my wife. Or my niece._

"Thank you for having us," Zoey added.

"So," Ms. Walters began, "I wanted to ask you about all this media attention you've suddenly attracted. It's because you decided to announce to your boardroom that you were a mutant, Dr. McCoy, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," Zoey replied. "And everything basically snowballed from there."

"Can you explain why you told them, rather than maintaining your anonymity?"

"Well, my husband obviously can't hide his mutation anymore, and I realized that I didn't want to, either. It's not really fair, is it? People looked at me and didn't see me for what I really am, because my mutation is invisible," Zoey told the reporter. She seemed to instinctively lean into me as she spoke. "But I'm proud of who I am, and the man I'm married to. And I wanted my company- and the other people in our town- to know that."

"He 'can't hide his mutation anymore?'" Ms. Walters queried. She focused on me. "You didn't always look this way, Dr. McCoy?"

I felt Zoey relax somewhat next to me.

If all went to plan, the reporter would now focus on _me_ for the rest of this interview, rather than her. We wanted it this way, because as Zoey put it, "this is your job, not mine. I don't have time to run a company, fix the world  _and_  be pregnant. Not when I have to pee every five minutes."

"No, ma'am," I replied to Ms. Walters. "I developed a secondary mutation after an accident."

"And how long ago was that?"

I had to lie at this question.

Hopefully it would be the only fib I had to make, but there wasn't much other choice. The truth- that my "accident" had actually happened over a decade ago- would involve explaining the development my mutation-suppressing serum. And I couldn't say anything about that, or else my reasons for destroying it in the first place would be utterly pointless.

_At least the Friends of Humanity won't out me. Otherwise they'd have themselves faced with kidnapping charges and whatever other kinds of retribution the X-Men can think of._

"About two months ago," I replied instead.

"Could you tell us what it's been like so far, living this way? How do people react when they see you?" Ms. Walters asked, gesturing towards my obvious blue-furriness.

I knew I had to chose my words carefully here. I didn't want to seem apologetic for being the way I was (not exactly a good message, when you're trying to tell mutants they shouldn't be ashamed of who they are), but I also didn't want to seem confrontational and alienate the broader human audience.

_There has to be a balance. I just have to find it._

"I think people in our town are more or less used to me now," I began hesitantly. "But at first the people where we live were afraid- or at least rather startled. No one really ran away screaming or anything, but I could definitely clear a path in a jiffy."

I plastered a wry grin on my face, trying to pretend that it didn't hurt when someone had purposely crossed the street just to avoid walking past me. It still stung, though I was slowly becoming accustomed and rather desensitized to it.

"I can't say I blamed them," I continued. "I know I can be a lot to take in, at first. No one expects to look up in the waiting room of a doctor's office and see something like me walking towards them, right? But people have gotten used to me, for the most part. I don't want to bother anyone. I just want to live my life much like everyone else does- going to work, trips to the grocery store, taking my wife out to dinner and a movie on occasion."

"That sounds so  _normal_ ," Ms. Walters noted calmly. "Would you describe yourself as a normal man, Dr. McCoy?"

Normal _._

The word brought a rush of painful memories to my mind. How much had I yearned to be "normal," ever since I was a child? To be like everyone else? To not be considered a mistake for being the way my genes made me?

_Normal_.

I despised that word now. Almost as much as I hated the word "freak."

"I think 'normal' is a relative term," I replied, before my musings created an awkward pause. "But it's important to realize that  _what_  I am is not  _who_  I am. It's just one piece. Though I certainly don't  _look_  normal, I'd still like to think my day-to-day life, my dreams and aspirations are the same as anyone else. I just want to provide for my family and make my wife happy to the best of my ability."

I glanced down at Zoey, who had been leaning her head against my shoulder until that point. She pulled back just enough to give me a warm, encouraging smile.

_You can do this,_  her eyes seemed to say.

It was strange, but at that moment all vestiges of nerves fell away, leaving behind only a strong sense of determination to do this right. To change the hearts and minds of the people watching, if it was possible.

_With you believing in me, my love, how can I fail?_

"I think that's the biggest misconception people have about mutants," I said seriously, returning my gaze to Ms. Walters.

The words flowed effortlessly, shocking even myself.

"We have these abilities that fall outside the range of 'normal' human limits. Some of us, like myself, look rather alien to the average observer. It makes us seem 'other,' almost inhuman, to some," I explained. "But the truth is, we're  _just people_. We have the same basic needs, the same hopes, the same feelings. All of us are trying to live our lives, just like everyone else.

"Whether you know it or not, there are mutants living among you. They're your neighbors, your coworkers- even your friends. They're your electrician or the waitress who served you at the diner down the street. You just don't know it because they're too afraid of facing discrimination for the way they were born. And those of us who have  _visible_ mutations, well... you probably won't see much of us. Not unless this country becomes much more open to the idea of accepting the mutant citizens who already live right next door without you even being aware."

"And why have  _you_  decided to make yourself known?" Ms. Walters asked pointedly. "Since it sounds like hiding yourself away would be much easier?"

I had to stop myself from showing my fangs as I smiled at Zoey- a genuine one this time, brought on by the thought of my impending fatherhood.

"We're expecting twins in a few months," I replied simply, making Zoey chuckle and squeeze my hand before I turned back to Ms. Walters once more. "Both of us grew up hiding and feeling ashamed of what we are, Ms. Walters. We want our children to know, from the very start, that there's nothing wrong with them if they happen to be born mutants. And we decided that the best way to show them that we accept  _them_  is to demonstrate first that we accept  _ourselves._ "

If I wasn't mistaken, Barbara Walters teared up a little at the sentiment behind that statement. But considering the hard-hitting reporting she became known for later, I may very well have been wrong.

She cleared her throat slightly. "There are some groups that believe mutants are abominations that should be identified and kept separate from the rest of society. What's your opinion on that?"

"I think it's that sort of ignorant thinking that allowed slavery to exist in this country for several hundred years, and then legalized segregation for a century after that," I said coolly. "The idea that one race is somehow better than the other is a fallacious argument. It really all comes down to genetics. Skin color, eye color, an X-gene. Is it really fair to discriminate against someone for the way God made them?"

"And what if 'the way God made them' is  _dangerous_ , as some groups would claim?"

_Ugh. Time to talk smoother than I ever have in my_ life _._

I thought quickly, searching for an answer that would be both honest and non-threatening. Unwelcome visions of Erik and Raven passed through my mind, reminding me that some mutants  _were_ , indeed, dangerous.

Zoey's sudden stiffness told me she was thinking along the same lines.

"Mutants are really just people, despite everything," I replied, with deliberation. "Yes, I'm sure there are some bad apples out there, but the truth is, the vast majority of us want to just exist peacefully and not hurt anyone. Just like regular people.

"And furthermore, if we were truly as 'dangerous' as those groups claim, surely you would be hearing about mutant versus human crime on a daily basis? The fact that mutants are now suddenly getting national attention does not change the fact that they've been a part of society all along, for the most part not hurting anyone. If they were truly minded towards making trouble, social convention wouldn't stop them. But you don't see that, do you?"

My next words were almost a plea for understanding.

"I'd like to think the American people are inherently good, ma'am," I told her earnestly. "Not humans or mutants, one over the other. Just  _people_."


	75. Can't Stop, Won't Stop

**Can't Stop, Won't Stop**

"I didn't know you had it in you," Alex crowed jubilantly, punching me in the shoulder. "That was awesome!"

Then he winced, because apparently my deltoid was harder than his knuckles.

I  _did_  have muscles, after all. They were just hidden by all the poofy fur. Alex always seemed to forget that.

"Dammit, Beast. Why'd you let me do that?"

I rolled my eyes, but quickly became serious. "Do you really think it went alright?"

"No, I'm lying to you," Alex replied sarcastically. "Why can't you just shut up and take a compliment?"

"Be nice," Gwen scolded, glaring at her boyfriend.

Her expression became much kinder when she looked at Zoey and I, sitting together on a sofa in Charles' study.

"You were amazing, guys," she said sincerely.

Zoey and I had just made our triumphant return back to the Institute later that day, for the purpose of commiserating with the others on how the interview went. Alex, Sean, Charles, Moira, Gwen and Maeve had all been eagerly waiting for us to give their impressions of our television appearance.

Though both of us had the  _feeling_  we came across well during the interview, we had agreed to reserve judgment until we got a second opinion from our friends.

_Ok, that's a lie._

Zoey was absolutely convinced that I had been adroit and eloquent, speaking with perfect sincerity and integrity. I had put forth both emotional and logical arguments that were sure to win people over all across the country.

Such was my wife's way of thinking.

In the mean time, I worried and fretted about the impression we made. Had it been enough? Had we changed anyone's minds? Were there mutants who would now be more open about what they were now? Had I been a good representative for our kind?

On and on the questions ran through my head, like a dog circling around and chasing its own tail.

"Didn't you see the look on everyone's faces afterwards? That mutant producer's expression?" Zoey asked rhetorically on the way home. "You were  _perfect_ , darling."

_I fear you might be a little biased, my love._

She always believed in me so completely. Unfortunately, this time I needed the reassurance from an outside source.

"I think you did fantastic," Moira commented. "It was a good idea to admit that some mutants can do bad things, rather than trying to pretend that it never happens. It shows your honesty."

"Yeah," Sean agreed. "But then the way you said there's already mutants out there, minding their own business- that was a nice touch. Just reminding them we don't pop out of the ground like gnomes when you think of us or something. We already exist."

_Thanks for that hilarious mental image, Sean._

"I liked how happy you seemed whenever you looked at each other," Maeve offered sweetly. "It was _adorable_. It was so obvious how much you two love each other. How can anyone hate someone capable of that sort of feeling, right? Especially when you mentioned the twins. Your expression was so cute! You looked like a cuddly teddy bear, Hank."

Zoey laughed and snuggled against my side, while my cheeks instantly warmed and turned purple.

It's not that I was embarrassed of my love for Zoey- not at all. But I wasn't sure if it was a good thing to have people gushing over our feelings for each other when we really wanted people to listen to what we had to say.

_Then again, maybe we should be happy with any kind of positive emotions we evoke with the general public and not complain. Being compared to a cuddly teddy bear is better than being called a frightening monster, I suppose._

I hopefully turned towards Charles, who had thus far remained silent. What did he think of our first real foray into public relations?

He grinned. "I knew you could do it," he said simply. "You were absolutely  _superb_."

I let out a mental sigh of relief. Their opinions were unanimously positive, and now I could relax.

Just a little.

Zoey nudged me playfully. "See? I told you so."

Charles chuckled. "Yes, Hank. Haven't you learned by now to always listen to your wife?"

* * *

We didn't stay too long after that, pleading exhaustion. Waking up at two o'clock in the morning to drive to the City for the interview was really starting to catch up with us.

"How does lunch and a nap when we get home sound?" I murmured to Zoey on our way out.

"Sounds  _amazing_ ," she replied, squeezing my arm.

"Auntie! Auntie! Uncle Hank!" a female voice called out from down the hall behind us.

We turned to see Olivia hurtling towards us, her coltish limbs flying all over and a huge grin on her face. Chloe followed behind her at a more measured pace.

Our niece flung herself at both of us, pulling Zoey and I into a three-way hug as she spoke in a breathless rush.

"You guys were  _awesome,_  everybody in my class was cheering for you- actually, I think the whole  _school_  did- Auntie you looked so pretty and strong, I'm so proud that I'm related to you-  _my God,_  Uncle Hank, I've never even heard you talk that much in my life!"

"Breathe, Livie," Zoey laughed. "Breathe."

At this point Chloe reached us. "You were both amazing," she said warmly, embracing Zoey and I each in turn.

It said a lot for how far she'd come that she didn't flinch at all.

I had a feeling Olivia had a lot to do with that- or perhaps just working at Xavier's in general had forever cured her of her aversion to mutant kind. In a way, Chloe Grey was the perfect example of a human's journey towards acceptance for mutants.

"What happens now?" she asked curiously.

"We do more interviews," Zoey replied, glancing at me.

We'd already discussed this between us and laid out a tentative plan, relying mainly on Zoey's brilliant intuition and business sense. It brought to mind the old adage that "behind every successful man there is a strong, wise woman."

"Or I should say,  _Hank_  will do more interviews, as long as people keep asking. Maybe he can raise some awareness and general good will while we've got the public's attention."

Chloe nodded slowly, looking rather hopeful.

"Oh, before I forget," Zoey added. "We got you something, Livie."

She dug around in her purse and pulled out a piece of paper.

It was a quick little note Barbara Walters had kindly penned for us, after I mentioned that my niece was a big fan of hers and wanted to be a journalist one day.

_"'To Olivia- Don't be afraid to follow your dreams, and don't ever let anyone tell you no. Sincerely, Barbara Walters,'"_  she read, her eyes huge with disbelief.

I plugged my ears right before she let out a delighted shriek and started to dance around, just as she did as a child.

_Sometimes I think the more things change, the more they stay the same._

* * *

"Carry me," Zoey joked pleadingly as I helped her out of the car.

I chuckled. "Are you that tired, sweetheart?"

"No. But my husband has super strength. Might as well enjoy it," she replied cheekily, with a mischievous grin that made my heartbeat speed up.

"Fine," I agreed, sighing in a feigned put-upon manner. I swept her into my arms and picked her up. "As my lady commands."

Zoey giggled as I nuzzled her hair and carried her inside.

I set her to her feet once we were in the kitchen and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

"Grilled cheese?" I guessed.

"That's fine. Could you put pickles in mine?" she asked hopefully.

_Pickles on grilled cheese? If that's not vomit-worthy, I don't know what is._

"Pickles?" I kept my tone diplomatic. "You don't even like pickles, Zoey."

She shrugged. "They sound good right now, though."

_Um... better not argue with the pregnant lady._

"Ok, sure. Whatever you want, darling," I told her, readily accepting the kiss she gave me in thanks.

I set to work- pulling out the ingredients (including the dreaded pickles), grabbing a frying pan, buttering bread-

And then Zoey let out a small gasp.

A quick glance over my shoulder sent pure panic coursing through my veins, as my pregnant wife stood there in the middle of the kitchen clutching her stomach with wide, startled eyes.

_No no no-_

"Zoey!"

I whirled around and immediately darted over to her side, hovering anxiously as I visually checked her over.

"What's wrong? Are the babies-?"

I was so alarmed that it took a few seconds to register that Zoey didn't look upset or in pain at all. In fact, she was  _smiling._

"Nothing's wrong," she assured me excitedly. "Hank- I can feel them moving! The twins!"

The relief that hit me right then was so powerful I almost passed out. The feeling was quickly followed by an ebullience so strong it was almost painful.

"Really?" I asked, putting my hand under hers on her belly.

Logically, I knew it was too early for me to feel anything- but I couldn't help hoping.

There was probably a stupidly happy grin on my face, but I didn't care. Our babies were growing stronger, and every morning was one more closer to the day we could hold them in our arms.

Zoey nodded, practically  _glowing_  with happiness and wonderment.

We stood there in silence for a long moment, waiting for the movement to happen again.

She laughed suddenly. "It feels like I'm being tickled from the inside," Zoey explained, scrunching up her nose at the sensation.

I chuckled and leaned down to kiss her. "I love you," I told her sincerely.

Then I got down on my knees and kissed her tummy. "And I love you, too, my little sea monkeys," I murmured to my children.

Zoey giggled, and her hands came up to stroke my hair as I nuzzled against her belly. I could feel the warmth of her smile spreading along my fingers and toes, even though I couldn't see her face.

It was a perfect family moment, just the four of us.

"We can't wait to meet you. _Both_ of you."


	76. Devoted Husband Extraordinaire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this part of the story takes place in 1974. A lot of the references (Nixon, for example) in this chapter and to follow are based in historical fact.

**Devoted Husband Extraordinaire**

The next few months were hectic and trying, but ultimately fulfilling in the best sense of the word.

Zoey's body seemed to change by the day, but to me she was always,  _always_  the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Nothing would ever change that for me.

Her tummy got rounder, of course, as did her breasts (something I enjoyed  _quite_  a bit). The curves of her face became softer, less angular. It was like someone had taken a photograph of her and smudged the edges, leaving Zoey with this incandescent, glowing aura around her in my eyes.

She was  _radiant,_  mostly in thanks to her hormones changing. Her skin was luminous, and her hair- it became even thicker, more lustrous and resplendent than ever before.

Zoey, my Pyralis, never resembled a fire fairy to me more than when she was pregnant. Her inner glow was like the sun, which was quite fitting in a way. Sometimes I compared myself to a planet happily caught in orbit, revolving around my own personal star.

The irony of her increased estrogen levels was the way Zoey's nails got stronger at the exact same time she could no longer reach her toenails to paint them, as was her custom. This frustrated her to no end until I gave up and started painting them for her on a regular basis. But only after I made her promise to never,  _ever_  speak of this secret shame to anyone.

Her pregnancy wasn't all sunshine and roses, of course. Though for the most part Zoey was happy to be carrying our children, she definitely had her moments of discontent.

She'd always been petite and slender, despite her obsession with basically anything containing refined sugar. Zoey managed to stay slim because of her powers- whenever she generated fire without an external fuel source (like wood or gasoline), she actually burned calories from her own metabolism. She could sit on the sofa holding a fireball she created for two minutes and expend more calories than if she got up and ran around the block a few times. So it didn't really matter how much or what she ate.

This was the first time in her life she'd ever weighed over a hundred pounds, and she  _hated_  it.

"What's wrong, darling?" I asked one day when I happened upon Zoey standing in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom with an upset look on her face.

I came up behind her and kissed her cheek. My hands reached around to rest on her belly as my eyes met hers in the mirror, gold into emerald green.

Sometimes I still wondered at what an odd pair we made- we were like a real life version of Beauty and the Beast. But I didn't worry about it as much as I used to. We loved each other, and that was all that mattered.

Zoey sighed disconsolately. "I'm getting fat, aren't I? I'm going to start developing my own gravitational pull."

_Technically speaking, we_ all  _have our own gravitational pull... but I'm definitely not falling into_ that  _trap._

"You're growing two babies inside of you, Zoey," I replied diplomatically. " _Two._ Of course you're going to gain some weight. It's only natural."

I pushed her curls out of the way and kissed along her neck, trying to distract her. She melted almost immediately, tilting her head to give me better access.

"You're beautiful," I murmured, trailing my hands down her arms. "Want me to prove it to you?"

"Mmm. Yes, please."

* * *

There were many restless nights, as Zoey tossed and turned because she couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. Her legs cramped, and her feet and back ached so much that sometimes the pain brought her to the verge of tears.

I did my best to comfort her as much as I could- giving her massages, rubbing her tummy with lotion when her skin itched (and then not complaining when my fur smelled like ointment for hours afterwards), sitting up talking with her when she got irritated with laying in bed and not being able to fall asleep.

Everyone wanted to touch Zoey's stomach once the babies started to quicken and kick more, to feel them say "hello." It seemed like all of our friends and family wanted to speak to the twins so much that they practically forgot about Zoey.

I could see the hurt in her eyes once when Olivia spent over half an hour cooing at Zoey's stomach and pressing back against the twins' movements without even a "how are you, Auntie?"

When we were at home it was different.

Sure, I spent a fair amount of time engrossed in talking to our children- but I never forgot to show Zoey how much I loved and appreciated her, doing all I could to make her smile.

Some of the things I did were truly embarrassing- like the time I tried to sing her the new song "You Are So Beautiful" that had recently been released by Joe Crocker. Zoey laughed so hard she almost peed herself and practically fell off the couch.

Her face was flushed scarlet though, so I think she was flattered.

Once she was home for the day the only time I let her get up from the sofa (unless she wanted to, obviously) was to use the bathroom. Otherwise, I fetched anything Zoey needed, brought her flowers, and basically treated her like a queen. Part of that came from my feral instincts, to take care of my pregnant mate. The rest was just... me being me, I guess.

Still, watching the twins kick and move inside of her was absolutely incredible, like a miracle happening right in front of my eyes. I smiled so wide that I thought my face would crack the first time I ever saw the imprint of one of their little hands pushing against Zoey's skin.

_Hello. I see you there, Baby,_ I thought giddily, placing my hand over my child's.

By now it was clear from those  _in utero_  movements that at least one- possibly both- of the babies had inherited my hand-feet.

I felt a surge of pure fear when I saw that outline of a foot with monkey toes for the first time, followed quickly by a burst of urgency to make things safer for my children before they finally arrived.

_I'm running out of time._

Our plan had worked better than we'd hoped for in regards to the mutant situation, but I still felt the fluttery panic of impatience. I had to keep reminding myself that changing a prejudice and mistrust so deeply entrenched in society would take more than a few successful debates.

After that interview on  _The Today Show_  I was asked by several other programs to provide representation for mutant kind. I even appeared on shows for the CBS network, but only after coaxing Zoey into allowing it.

"Darling, we need to focus on getting as much positive exposure as we can," I pleaded. "Please, be reasonable."

"Fine," she agreed sullenly. "Do it for the children, right?"

I let out a sigh of relief. "Yes, exactly."

Maybe I was being optimistic, but I honestly felt I was making a difference by putting myself out there like that. It seemed like at least  _some_  people were open to learning more about our kind.

Within a few weeks, stories that previously would've never gotten national media attention simply for the fact that they didn't fit the unfavorable narrative for mutants suddenly became headline news.

Stories like the teenage boy in Oregon who saved his neighbor's house from burning down by turning the flames to ice, or the twenty-eight year old woman in Chicago who used her limb-stretching ability to pull a man away from an oncoming train after he'd fallen onto the tracks. A little girl who could control the weather managed to single-handedly end a drought in the Texas panhandle. She was already well on her way to becoming something of a folk hero in her home town.

"Mommy and Daddy always used to tell me not to show my powers," the nine year old explained to a reporter. "But then the rain stopped, and they hoped people would like me helping them enough not to be scared of me."

The stories weren't all positive-  _someone,_ though it was obviously impossible to tell who, had used their ability to turn invisible to propagate a string of convenience store robberies. Police were left scrambling to figure out how to catch the criminal.

A rash of anti-mutant protests broke out after that incident, but, to our pleasant surprise, it sparked pro-mutant demonstrations in return. The picketers were comprised of humans and mutants alike, and though the groups were smaller than those of the anti-mutant protests, the fact that they existed at all felt like a great leap forward.

The past decade had been one of great social change- Civil Rights, anti-war, anti-poverty, feminism, the environment- and activism abounded. I suppose this really was the best possible time for mutants to try to find their own voice, because people were now more open to listening to it.

Unfortunately, some of the loudest dissonant voices came from within the government.

Despite the current climate of disillusionment the American people felt towards their government (President Nixon resigned over the summer following the Watergate scandal, which then invited accusations of widespread government corruption), we knew it didn't bode well for our kind when the people with the power to make laws started to spew prejudice.

The biggest offender was Senator Robert Kelly, from our own state of New York. He soon began to make inflammatory remarks about mutants at every opportunity he could, using the argument that we were too dangerous to mix with the general population. Though crimes committed by identifiable mutants were rare, Kelly still used them as justification for his claims.

"Are we really willing to risk our safety- our  _children's_  safety- on the hopes that mutants won't use their powers against us?" he reasoned. "They have power, my friends, and we all know how power corrupts."

_Says the_ senator _. Who was the biggest contributor to your election campaign again? Oh, that's right. The Friends of Humanity._

_Birds of a feather..._

I couldn't tell what was worse- the fact that people were starting to heed his hateful message, or the way he seemed to be hinting that he was drafting some sort of anti-mutant legislation.

A storm was coming.

The only thing we could do was keep fighting and weather it out.


	77. Identification

**Identification**

"If you're afraid of the difficulties inherent to stopping mutant crime- something that is exceedingly rare, if you look at the numbers- I suggest you create an environment where mutants would feel comfortable coming forward with their powers and using them  _with_  the police force, as peacekeepers," I argued firmly. "May I remind you of the heroic stories of mutants serving our country abroad during the past two decades? The fact that they're just now coming to light doesn't change the fact that mutants have been using their powers to save others for a very long time."

I took a breath, deliberating on whether I should mention Zoey.

_Might as well. She won't mind helping me make a point._

"Imagine the lives lost and property damage we could avoid, if only mutants felt safe enough to be completely open about their powers, if they so chose. Pyrokinetic mutants, such as my wife, would be able to utilize their abilities to fight fires right alongside human firefighters," I reasoned. "We could use our powers to  _help_  our society, rather than hiding them away out of fear of stigmatization and prejudice. You argue that humans have reason to be afraid of mutants, but the truth is, those suspicions are groundless. They only serve to stop mutants from harnessing their abilities to do all of us a world of good."

"Thank you for the input, Dr. McCoy," Morley Safer, host of  _60 Minutes,_  said formally. "And thank you for joining us."

He turned towards the main camera.

"Up next- what is the Critical Mass Energy Project, and what does it have to do with consumer activist Ralph Nader? You have the questions, and we'll get the answers."

"And cut!" the director called out.

I let out a sigh, relieved that yet another interview was done. I hoped I would manage to convince some people when it aired.

Mr. Safer certainly hadn't pulled any punches with his questions. He wanted to know all about mutant on human crime- no "human interest" piece for him. I'd answered as best I could, but- as always- I wondered if it was enough.

The appeased look in his eyes as he shook my hand told me he was satisfied, though.

This was just one of several interviews I'd done in the past few whirlwind months. Now it was the beginning of October already- only eight weeks until Zoey's due date.

Her belly had gotten so big already that it looked like she was about to pop. For that reason she barely left the house anymore, instead preferring to have Gwen drop off forms for work and making conference calls from home.

You'd think that Zoey would try to take it easy now that she was so heavily pregnant, but you'd be wrong.

I lost count of how many times I came home to find her in the midst of a cleaning frenzy, practically attacking the windows with Windex or vacuuming while singing in a horrifically off-key voice that made the cats run and hide in terror.

Zoey re-painted the babies' room at least three times because she couldn't decide what shade of blue she wanted. And she'd rearranged the baby furniture in the sitting area of our bedroom so often that I lived in constant fear that she would seriously injure herself while I wasn't there.

"What?" she'd demanded sheepishly. "I'm  _nesting._ "

"You're going to hurt yourself.  _Please,_  take it easy," I'd pleaded. "Just tell me what you want moved, and I'll do it for you."

And she'd listened to my entreaties, thankfully. The next day when I came home she was sedately watching  _Hogan's Heroes_  while polishing the silver tea set we got for our wedding.

_I wonder what she's going to be up to today,_ I wondered to myself as I pulled into our garage after the  _60 Minutes_  interview.

"Sweetheart, I'm ho-" I called out as I entered the kitchen- but then I cut myself off when I saw Zoey sitting at the kitchen island eating ice cream.

I grinned at her sweet tooth.

"Really? Ice cream before dinner, darling?"

"Yup," she replied, smiling at me over her shoulder. "Hello, baby. How'd it go?"

"Really well, I think," I said, coming closer.

I placed my hands on Zoey's shoulders, leaned in to kiss her-

And froze.

I"m not sure what tipped me off the most over the fact that the person sitting in our kitchen was  _not_  my wife.

Perhaps it was because I could see she was currently eating my strawberry ice cream, even though she was allergic. Or how she'd just called me "baby," an endearment she'd never used before. Maybe it was the wrong smell- Zoey had an innate flowery scent, currently overlaid with pregnancy pheromones. This stranger smelled completely different, and was decidedly  _not_  pregnant- despite her rounded belly.

Those were definitely contributing factors, but I truly think the biggest hint was the way nothing in this impostor-Zoey's eyes sparked that inexorable pull I'd felt towards my love since the moment I first saw her. I could only see a cold stranger, staring out at me from my wife's face.

Which could only mean one thing.

_Raven._

My hands tightened in barely-suppressed rage, making my claws dig into her flesh without quite breaking the skin yet.

"Where is she?" I demanded.

"What?" Raven squirmed, wincing in pain. "What's wrong? Hank, stop that- you're hurting me-"

_Hurting. What did Raven do to her? Zoey could be injured somewhere- the twins-_

The first night I ever spoke to Zoey about my feral half I told her that it would be very difficult for me to hurt a woman, even in my Beast form. It went against instinct to harm a female, even if she punched me in the face a few times.

I'd just found an exception.

The idea that my pregnant mate was hurt, somewhere out of my reach, completely overrode anything else.

"Where's my wife?" I snarled, shaking Raven.

"Hank, it's me-" she whimpered in Zoey's voice.

I grabbed her neck and roughly pushed forward, forcing Raven's head against the countertop as I twisted her arm behind her back in a chicken wing hold.

"I know it's you, Raven," I hissed. "What have you done with Zoey?"

Raven gave a little huff of annoyance and morphed into her natural blue form. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Tell me where my wife is," I retorted.

"Oh relax," she replied sardonically. "Little Miss Perfect is locked in your bedroom closet. Probably doesn't even know it yet, either. How do you put up with that godawful singing, anyway?"

I paused, listening intently.

Sure enough, I could hear Zoey's voice faintly floating down from upstairs. I had the vague suspicion she'd decided to re-organize our closet today.

_I don't think I've ever been more thankful to hear her butchering an Elvis song._

I relaxed somewhat and released Raven, immediately turning on my heel to go let Zoey out of her impromptu prison.

"Hey, don't you want to know why I'm here?" Raven threw at my back, before I'd taken three steps.

_No, not really. I liked it better when I saw you but once a decade._

I opened my mouth to make a biting retort, but reconsidered it after a moment.

Yes, she'd just pulled a childish and tasteless prank- pretending to be my pregnant wife and locking her in a closet wasn't something I would forgive lightly- but Raven had also helped me save Zoey earlier that year. For her own manipulative reasons, sure, but still.

It was enough for me to turn around and raise my eyebrows expectantly.

"Only if you say it quickly," I replied testily.

She smirked and lounged provocatively against the counter. "You've made quite a spectacle of yourself this past few months. People are noticing, but not in the ways you probably hoped."

"And?"

"Well, I've been spying on Senator Kelly for a month or so now, pretending to be one of his aides," Raven explained. "And he's been drafting a Mutant Registration Act. He's going to announce it next week."

My heart sank.

A proposed Mutant Registration Act?

Even at face value that didn't sound good, but I could guess what something like that would entail: identifying mutants openly, unwillingly. Allowing the government to track our movements at all times. Forcing all of us to wear something that made us identifiable- even those of us who could hide what we were.

It would make us all moving targets.

And I had a sinking suspicion that everything I'd done until that point- all the interviews, the debates, throwing myself onto the pyre of public opinion- had only served to bring this unwanted legislation upon all of us.

_I just wanted to help, and I made it all worse._

Raven watched my expression fall with a little smile on her face, like she was getting some kind of sick amusement out of my disillusionment.

_Don't let her rattle you, McCoy. We'll think of something. Somehow._

I nodded slowly. "Alright. Message received," I said calmly. "Thank you. Now please see yourself out of my house."

She scowled. "That's it?" Raven hissed. "You're just going to-"

"What do you expect me to do, Raven?" I demanded icily.

"To _fight_ ," she snapped. "I told you this would happen, that the humans would never accept us. You know this is only first step, Beast. First they identify us, then they round us up and leave us to rot- or kill us outright. But if we strike first-"

"We prove them right for hating us, and provide the justification needed for legislation like this," I interjected. "It doesn't have to be 'us' versus 'them.' Kelly's not going to get the support necessary to get that bill passed unless mutants do something to provoke public outcry."

She shook her head disbelievingly as I gave her a meaningful look.

_Ahem. Take that back to the Brotherhood, please._

"Violence is never the answer," I said firmly.

"Fine," Raven retorted, spitting out each word with palpable venom. "Be a blind fool, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just go back to being a dancing monkey in a suit, until the humans get tired of you. Then you'll just be an easy target. You, what's-her-face and your little Beast spawns'll be the first ones they nab-"

Her diatribe cut off abruptly as a small fireball exploded at her feet.

"That's enough of that," Zoey's voice said behind me. She sounded  _furious,_ but I couldn't say I blamed her.

_Uh oh. Raven, you should've left while you had the chance._


	78. To the American People

**To the American People**

I turned to see my wife coming towards me in fine form- her eyes were flashing with righteous fury, and her hair, illuminated by the fireball waiting for launch in her hand, had never resembled flames more than that moment as she glowered at the other woman.

"That first one was a deliberate miss because you helped save me in April," Zoey snapped once she reached my side. "But the next has your name on it if you don't get out of this house in the next five seconds.  _No one_  speaks to my husband like that within my hearing."

_She also locked you in a closet, darling. Aren't you mad about that, too?_

"And you owe me a new door."

If Zoey hadn't looked so irate at that moment I would've laughed at the deadly serious way she added that as an afterthought. I highly suspected our closet door was a smoldering wreck right now.

"It was only what he needed to hear," Raven sneered. "All this talk of peace makes us look weak, and now the humans are taking advantage of that. We need to-"

"You broke into my house, locked me up- I'm assuming so you could impersonate me to mess with Hank's head- and insulted my husband," Zoey interjected in an eerily calm voice. "Now I'm tired, hungry, and  _very_ hormonal. You've said what you wanted to say. So unless you want me to redecorate your face, I suggest you get the hell out of here."

Raven seemed to consider the warning for a long moment, eyeing my wife with evident hatred in her cold yellow eyes. Zoey stared back unflinchingly.

In the two times she'd seen Raven over the years, Zoey had managed to be stiffly polite in their interactions despite the disdain the other woman treated her with.

Apparently she'd now officially reached the end of her tether- though to be fair, it probably wasn't a long one. Her fuse was remarkably short these days, being pregnant and all.

I would've wrapped my arm around her in solidarity at that moment, but I was rather afraid of setting her off like an angry firecracker.

But then Raven broke first, an amused smirk on her face. She rolled her eyes and set off for the front door, morphing into a generic workman on the way.

Without another word, she was gone.

Both Zoey and I let out deep exhales at the exact same time. The fireball flickered out of existence.

"You ok? I asked gently, feeling safe enough now that there was no open flame in her hands to pull her into my arms.

"No," Zoey muttered, rubbing her forehead with one hand vexatiously. "She pretended to be me, didn't she?"

"Yes," I replied.

I pulled away so I could see her expression. She currently looked deeply unsettled, but she was still my Zoey.

_Same face, completely different eyes. I'd know you anywhere, my love._

"I knew it wasn't you immediately, though."

She looked slightly mollified. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. She was eating my ice cream, she called me 'baby,' and I could smell she wasn't pregnant," I explained with a shrug. "And... I just  _knew_. I looked at her and there was no... no pull, I suppose. No connection. Not like what I feel when I look at you, or you look at me."

Zoey's cheeks flushed as she smiled and snuggled against me, our babies between us. My words had apparently comforted her, though that wasn't necessarily my intention. I'd only spoken the truth.

"Why was she here?" she asked, her voice muffled by my shirt. "Besides to be a nuisance, I mean."

I quickly detailed what Raven had said. I tried not to let the guilt I felt over the upcoming mutant registration bill bleed through my account, but Zoey sensed it anyway.

"This isn't your fault, Hank," she soothed.

"It certainly feels that way," I said bitterly. "All of us were safe in relative obscurity for the most part, and then I had to go and stir up trouble."

"You mean  _'we.'_ I'm the one that stood up in front of my boardroom, remember? Don't pretend you acted alone in this," Zoey retorted. "Hank, what you said to Mystique is true- Kelly won't get the support he needs without provocation. He's just one lawmaker who probably would've come up with something hateful without you raising awareness anyway."

She reached up and cradled my face between her hands.

"The only thing you've done is opened people's eyes to the humanity in all of us mutants, and shown there's more good than bad. You can't let him stop you, darling."

"I don't see how I can fight legislation like this," I confessed painfully.

"Neither do I," she admitted. "But I think I have an idea on where to start."

* * *

We worked late through the night together, as Zoey ignored my exhortations to get some rest.

"I'm too hyped up to go to bed right now," she argued. "And anyway- I can't sleep without you."

_Ooph. She went right for the heart._

"Ok," I conceded. "Let's just get this done, then."

By the time we finally climbed into bed, exhausted but satisfied, there was an open letter directed to the American people to be delivered to the office of  _The New York Times_ waiting in the mailbox. There was no return address.

It read:

_"To the American people:_

_On August 17, 1938, the Nazi Party issued a degree which required all Jews to carry identification cards that indicated their Jewish heritage- something that was defined three years earlier by the Nuremberg Laws of 1935. A "Jew" was designated as someone with three of four Jewish grandparents. The classification had nothing to do with whether or not a person identified with the Jewish faith or recognized themselves as a Jew._

_It was based on something they could not help: their heritage._

_The Nazis took this process a step further after the invasion of Poland, requiring all Jews to openly wear a Star of David. This made it easier for Jews to be disenfranchised, denied their civil rights, and openly discriminated against by the people they once called their friends and neighbors._

_But how does this pertain to the American people?_

_Thankfully, it does not- yet._

_This is not a country searching to dehumanize and blame a certain group of people for their nation's decline. This is a country of people not easily led by the nose by lawmakers who believe they know best. This is a country which rightfully questions its leaders, something that is necessary if Watergate and the Pentagon Papers are anything to go by._

_No, this is not Nazi Germany. This is the country which did its utmost to punish the Nazis to the fullest extent of international law for the reprehensible crimes committed against European Jews and other "undesirable" groups. It follows that the people of this great country would not allow their own friends and neighbors, their fellow citizens, to suffer the same fate._ Especially  _for something that is completely out of their control._

_The concept of the United States government targeting its own citizens the way the Nazis did would be utterly disgraceful. In the first place, such a law would be largely unenforceable by legal means._

_How could the totality of a people be identified of a certain attribute, barring a physical trait, except by open admission? And who would willingly allow themselves to be identified, if they feared discrimination would result? Clearly, no one would_ choose  _such a thing._

_So how would a law targeting a certain group be enforced? The only answer would be to tear the Constitution of the United States to shreds. Are we really going to allow the government to go door-to-door, demanding blood samples and other evidence from its own innocent citizens without probable cause? It would be a direct violation of the Fourth Amendment, and it would affect us_ all _._

_And furthermore, to argue that the protection of the Constitution does not extend to a certain segment of the population by virtue of not being "human" enough- well, that reasoning certainly sounds familiar, doesn't it?_

_The idea that the people of this great country would allow such an injustice is unconscionable. And I, for one, will not stand for it._

_Sincerely,_

_A Concerned Citizen."_

We didn't sign our names, hoping that the anonymity of the writer would help readers view the letter with clear, unjaded eyes.

"It'll be like  _The Federalist Papers_  of the twentieth century," Zoey joked.

I sighed. "You are such a nerd," I told her lovingly.

We also intentionally never mentioned the word "mutant," in an attempt to allow people to draw the parallels from their own personal experiences and then make their own conclusions without the associated stigma.

In an ironic way the timing of all of this was actually to our favor.

Less than a month ago President Gerald Ford had issued a presidential pardon for Nixon following his resignation over the Watergate scandal, sparking public outrage from people who wanted to see the man punished for his involvement. And now that the former president was currently claiming illness, there were some who believed he was faking it to get out of the subpoenas he was under for the trials of his former aides. The indignation was made worse by the fact that he was excused from appearing.

Whispers of government corruption were quickly becoming shouts. The (very valid, in this case) suggestion that the government would step all over the Constitution in pursuit of enforcing this law would no doubt feel very real to the American people.

It would no longer be just mutants worried for their freedom, it would be everyone. The time had come, I hoped, for all of us to throw in our lots together to stand for justice.

We could only wait and see. And then pray it would be enough.


	79. Magneto's Master Plan

**Magneto's Master Plan**

Our letter was published three days later, one day after Senator Kelly released a statement to the press declaring that he would be announcing a prospective bill aimed at mutants the following week.

The timing was perfect.

Though Kelly didn't go so far as to mention the exact nature of his proposed legislation, the way  _The New York Times_ presented our editorial- right above an article speculating as to what the bill would be about- definitely aroused readers' suspicions.

Our letter seemed to be an answer to the questions Kelly's announcement raised, like we had connected the dots for the general public and drawn the inevitably dire conclusions from the likely circumstances. It gave the American people plenty of food for thought, that's for sure.

So with our anonymous forewarning, people already had an inkling of what this bill would be about before Senator Kelly even officially gave the details. Now the question was, what they would do about it?

Would they bury their heads in the sand, and allow blind hatred and bigotry to win the day? Or would they stand up for justice- not only for mutants, but for themselves, as well?

And the X-Men?

Thankfully, we already had a plan by then.

* * *

I went directly to Charles and the rest of the X-Men the morning after Raven's "visit," to tell them of her warning and the letter Zoey and I had written in response. And I made sure not to spare the details of our encounter, either.

Charles looked pained over the cruel trick his wayward sister had tried to play, but the other two seemed pleased that Zoey had gotten so indignant and threatened the other woman with bodily harm. Alex, in particular, had come to find her protective streak towards me to be rather amusing over the years- when it wasn't aimed at himself, that is.

"A registration act?" Sean said incredulously after I was done with my story. "Do you think she was telling the truth?"

"I don't see why she would lie about something like that," I replied. "I just don't understand why she would tell  _me_ , and not you, Charles."

"You've become quite prominent with the public lately," my mentor mused thoughtfully. "Perhaps she thought you would be able to do something to stop it."

"How would he be able to stop anything before its even publicly announced, though?" Alex reasoned. "I mean, you wrote that letter and stuff, so hopefully people are already going to be biased against the bill when Kelly finally comes clean about it. But it's not like Beast can stand up and say he's got insider information about the whole thing, can he?"

He shook his head, his expression darkening.

"Something about this smells fishy."

"'Fishy?'" Charles repeated. "Fishy in what way?"

Alex didn't speak for a minute, obviously trying to figure out a way to put his suspicions into words. Expressing himself still wasn't exactly his forte- he much preferred to use violence or sarcasm.

"Let's put it this way... Beast, now that you've written that letter, what's the next step in your plan of attack about this whole thing?" he asked slowly.

I considered that for a moment before replying.

"Well, if Senator Kelly wants to make a big speech when he discloses the bill, I was thinking about drumming up some kind of public support and picketing the event," I replied.

Zoey and I had discussed this idea last night, but I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the whole thing. She felt it would make it more difficult for Kelly to go through with announcing his proposed legislation if he had to do it right in front of the very people he was targeting.

"Hating nameless and faceless people is much easier than when they're staring you in the face," she'd reasoned. "It makes them seem more human, even if you're trying not to think of them that way."

I honestly didn't think Robert Kelly was the type to back down, though. If anything, seeing the objects of his antipathy in the crowd was likely to make his comments even more inflammatory.

_Grab your torches and pitchforks! My stars and garters, some people just don't live in the twentieth century yet, do they?_

Moreover, I wasn't all that eager to lead a group of protesters. Speeches to a camera, speaking to a reporter or even one or two pundits on a panel were fine. But a huge crowd of people? Forgive me for feeling a little stage fright. I would only do it if absolutely necessary.

Alex nodded slowly, still pensive.

"That's what I thought. But what if that's what Mystique wants you to do?" he proposed. "What if her and Magneto are planning something crazy and want a big audience for it?"

_Damnation._

The realization dawned on me with a kind of slow, ineluctable horror- the kind an unfortunate villager feels when they see a lava flow carving an inexorable, destructive path towards their house.

"Be serious, Havok," Charles chided, rejecting the idea out of hand. "Erik wouldn't do something so stupid."

The rest of us exchanged meaningful looks.

"Actually, Alex's theory makes perfect sense," I disagreed.

Alex looked relieved that I had been quick on the uptake and that the remainder of the explanation was now out of his hands.

"Senator Kelly has been the biggest anti-mutant figurehead in the government these past few months, ever since I started to make noise about mutant rights. Of course Raven would make it a point to keep an eye on him."

Charles wasn't following, I could tell.

Then again, I knew it would take a lot to convince him of Alex's hypothesis. He didn't want to even consider the idea that his sister would stray that far from the woman he once knew.

Low level crime in the name of mutant rights he could overlook- barely. But a large scale (and likely to be highly violent) act, sure to be caught on camera... I could understand why he didn't want to believe Raven to be capable of such a thing. With Erik it was more credible, though he would still be reluctant to admit it.

"For  _years_  the Brotherhood has been trying to gather support in the shadows, causing just enough trouble to propagate the negative outlook the public has on mutants, but not enough to truly put the spotlight on our kind. True, groups like the Friends of Humanity have popped up, but there's never been a large scale public outcry. It's been a standoff until I stuck my neck out and attracted enough attention that Kelly wrote this bill. Now, what's a mutant registration act going to sound like to a survivor of the Holocaust?"

"Like the first shot in a war Magneto has been waiting for all along," Sean concluded, looking horrified.

I nodded. "Exactly. The announcement of anti-mutant legislation is the perfect opportunity for him to launch what he views as a preemptive strike. A prominent mutant-hating public figure, a televised audience to witness his declaration of war... and if I brought a bunch of mutant protesters along, there would be a large group of prospective 'soldiers' to hopefully rally to his cause. That's why Raven came to warn me. It's what they want."

Charles looked like he was on the verge of tears. He didn't want to believe it, but our reasoning was irrefutable- his friend and adoptive sister were truly going to take the next step and try to start a war.

The rest of us waited silently for him to compose himself. Finally, he cleared his throat and nodded.

"I see," Charles said shakily. "Well, we're just going to have to stop them, yes?"

_Yes. But how?_

* * *

Zoey was understandably upset when I told her about our deductions, and our tentative plan to stop the Brotherhood.

"I want to come with you," she said flatly.

I stared at my wife disbelievingly- all five foot three inches, one hundred and and twenty-one pounds of her with her ludicrously large baby bump.

She was still just under eight weeks to her due date, but visions of her going into premature labor were already starting to haunt my thoughts.

_The twins are messing with her brain again. There's no way she_ really _expects me to let her put herself in danger like that. Is there?_

"You can't, darling," I told her gently. "It's too dangerous."

"But-"

I shook my head. I almost  _never_ denied Zoey what she wanted, but I had to put my foot down here. There was too much as stake- losing her and the twins just didn't bear thinking of.

"No. I'm sorry, Zoey, but I can't let you come," I said firmly. "I won't let you risk yourself  _or_  our children that way."

Her face crumpled, and my heart broke to see the tears starting in her eyes.

_No, don't cry. Please-_

"I know you won't. I know I can't go," she admitted. "But I'm scared for you, Hank. So much could go wrong, I wouldn't be able to-"

"A lot could go wrong," I agreed, unable to lie to her. "But we have to take that chance. There's no other way, and I'm going to do everything I can to keep you and the twins safe. I  _have_  to."

Zoey squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from leaking out. Trying to be strong for me.

_My brave, beautiful wife._

She quickly wiped her eyes and shook her head. "Ugh, I  _hate_  being so weepy!" Zoey grouched, giving me a watery smile. "I hate being  _that_  girl who turns into a puddle of tears, you know? But at least these kids are worth it."

She took a deep breath.

"You do what you have to do, Hank."

I chuckled and pulled her in for an embrace, stroking her hair with my claws as I held her close.

"I'll come home to you," I murmured.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I promise."


	80. The Stakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Star Trek: The Animated Series ran from 1973-1974 and happened to get cancelled on October 12, 1974- the very day this chapter takes place.

**The Stakes**

Senator Kelly didn't back down, despite the rumblings of discontent from across the country. That was certainly a disappointment- though I hadn't expected our letter to force him into withdrawing his bill, I suppose I'd unconsciously hoped for it.

On the bright side of things, we'd certainly raised awareness on the issue. So at least it wasn't a completely fruitless endeavor.

About a week after Raven's visit I kissed Zoey good-bye and left her at our house under the care of Billy and Marceline. Chloe and Olivia were coming over in a bit, and Maeve was going to stop by with Theresa later. They were all going to watch the broadcast of Senator Kelly's speech on television together.

And maybe make cookies or something- I wasn't sure on the details.

_Even if they do bake, between Zoey and Olivia there won't be any leftover for me anyway. Sugar fiends, both of them._

I'd actually asked everyone to come over to keep an eye on Zoey for the simple fact that I feared she would go into obsessive cleaning mode to take her mind off things and hurt herself while I was gone.

Zoey didn't even call me a worrywart this time for suggesting it. I think, for once, she was worrying plenty herself. Having company would only be a welcome distraction for her, even though her lower back was hurting her terribly this morning.

The way she looked at me right before I left her... it was like she was trying to memorize my face, like she feared she would never see me again.

I was trying very hard not to feel the same way.

"I love you," I told her sincerely, giving her a thorough kiss. And then, because I couldn't bear to actually say 'good-bye' to her, I promised, "I'll see you tonight, Zoey."

"You better," she joked.

When I left, I took the mental image of the brave little smile on her face as she said that with me.

* * *

The rest of the X-Men were waiting for me at the Institute- as were Moira and Gwen, carrying protest signs.

One said,  _"Legalized discrimination? Not in my country!"_ And the other said,  _"Human or mutant, who cares? Coexist!"_

Both of them were dressed for a long day of standing out in the sun.

"You're coming too?" I asked incredulously.

My gaze slid past them to Charles and Alex, asking the question with my eyes.

With Magneto apparently on the warpath, the last thing I expected was for these two to agree to allow their  _human_ wife and girlfriend, respectively, to attend the event the human-hating metal-bender was planning on crashing.

"Yes," Moira replied calmly. "We're hoping to be an example that humans and mutants can coexist happily together. We're living proof."

"You've made all of us get into the spirit of activism, Hank," Gwen added brightly, while Alex rolled his eyes in exasperation. "So congratulations!"

_There are no words for this, I think._

Charles sighed, his expression resigned.

I had a feeling his acquiescence on this matter had to do with the time he abused his powers and wiped the memories of all of us from Moira's mind, back in 1962. After she found us again he vowed to never force her into anything ever again- trying to prove himself worthy, in a way, of the forgiveness she'd already given him. That meant keeping his disapproval to himself (after a certain point, of course) and not giving into temptation again if Moira was adamant about doing something.

And apparently she was determined to do  _this_.

"That's... nice," I offered lamely.

_My stars and garters, this is a horrible idea._

* * *

In one sense the fact that Senator Robert Kelly was from our state and was planning to formally announce his bill to his own constituency was a stroke of luck. All of us were able to pile in a van and make the two hour drive to Albany, rather than having to take the Blackbird on a farther journey. The goal was to appear inconsequential and not attract attention, from humans and mutants both.

_Or as little attention as possible, considering I tend to stick out like a big, blue sore thumb wherever I go._

None of us spoke much on the way there. I think everyone was too busy wondering what kind of situation we would be walking into when we arrived to really come up with any semblance of small talk.

From what direction would the blow fall? What sort of chaos was the Brotherhood planning today? I had a feeling it would involve the fact that Raven was currently posing as an aide to the senator.

My worst fear was that she would try to assassinate Robert Kelly in an attempt to spark the conflict she felt was inevitable. What better way, Raven probably surmised, to make a show of force to the humans than by killing the man who was trying to come up with anti-mutant legislation? It would certainly send the message that mutants would no longer tolerate any attempts to subjugate them.

I could see martial law being declared in the aftermath of such an openly hostile act. Civil rights for all citizens would be suspended as the government pooled its considerable resources towards the goal of hunting each and every one of us down. And mutants would presumably fight back, to protect themselves.

_It would start a war that could only end in mutual destruction for all of us,_ I concluded grimly, fiddling with my wedding ring.  _Why can't the Brotherhood see that there's no scenario where any one side wins if we go down that path? Are they really so blind?_

My thoughts drifted to Zoey and our babies, filling me with an icy cold dread. I wouldn't be able to keep them safe if any of that happened. I couldn't fight an entire society determined on exterminating all of us, no matter _how_ much I wanted to shield them from it.

It had to be the most frightening prospect a man could ever face, the idea that he couldn't protect his wife and children. The very thought cut me to the core.

_We can't let it happen. We_ have  _to stop them today._

My apprehensive and gloomy musings ground to a screeching halt when Alex pulled up in front of the public park where Kelly's speech was going to be made.

"Holy shit," Alex muttered.

_Um... Actually, yes. That about sums it up._

The park was literally  _crawling_  with people- news vans full of reporters from all three stations (and PBS), police officers ready to help with crowd control, protesters holding picketing signs, and other people just milling around waiting for Kelly's speech to start. I estimated there to be at least six hundred individuals packed into the relatively small open-air space.

I focused on reading the protester signs from out the car window.

_"We are_ NOT _Nazi Germany!"_

_"Mutant and proud!"_

_"Save the Constitution!"_

_"Keep the government out of our homes!"_

_"Discrimination against mutants is still discrimination!"_

_"Thomas Jefferson said, 'dissent is the highest form of patriotism!'"_

_"Save the whales!"_

_Hmm. I think that last person is at the wrong protest._

Though there were a few negative picketers, the protesters appeared to be overwhelmingly pro-mutant- or at least pro-Constitution. It was only the people who felt the strongest about something, I knew, who would make a point in coming to show their support.

This was something to be proud of.

It seemed that our anonymous letter had caused quite a stir in public feeling. Enough, at least, for people to venture from their homes and stand up to show just what they thought of Senator Kelly's ridiculous piece of legislation.

At any other time, my heart would've swelled with hope and delight to see such a popular outpouring of support and mutant pride.

But right now every mutant out there was a potential enemy who could be swayed by Magneto's hateful rhetoric when he appeared. That's why I hadn't tried to rally any kind of protest for this event, because I didn't want to give him more ammunition.

The tension in the air would provide the perfect fuse for him to spark a mutant versus human riot.

_Or a war._

Sean let out a low whistle. "So much for you not mentioning a pro-mutant protest, Beast," he remarked dryly. "Looks like they went ahead and did it without you."

_Indeed._

"This can either be  _really_  good or  _really_ bad," Gwen muttered worriedly, pressing her nose against the glass of her window to peer out.

I had to agree with her there. Right now I was currently leaning towards  _really bad._

"How many of them are mutants, Charles?" I asked quietly.

My mentor was silent for a long moment as he searched through the minds of the people gathered outside before answering.

_Wouldn't it be nice if he stumbled on Raven's thoughts in the mean time? At least then we'd know where she is..._

"Less than a quarter, I'd say," Charles finally concluded. "The rest are human. Some are here because of the threat they feel the government poses to their own privacy- that was a wonderful touch, Beast, bringing the problem home to their own doorstep- but a fair few are here because they're actually sympathetic to the cause."

He turned to me and grinned proudly.

"Looks like all of those television appearances have had some impact."

_My stars and garters._

I knew that in no way was I responsible for  _all_ of this change in public feeling, but I might in all fairness at least claim a small part of it.

I'd tried so hard to give mutants a voice... and now, incredibly, it seemed people had actually  _listened_.

Moira seemed to read the dubious amazement in my expression because she chose that moment to laugh.

"You obviously changed some minds out there," she told me, patting my shoulder. "Give yourself some credit, Hank."

I tried to smile at her in thanks, but failed miserably.

My little moment of triumph had already vanished at the thought of the task still ahead of us. All of this good will would mean nothing if a war started today.

"I will when we've stopped the war Erik and Raven want to instigate," I said, wishing more than anything I was at home patiently watching the final episode of  _Star Trek: The Animated Series_  with Zoey right now.

Failing her today was not an option.

I took a deep, bracing breath.

"Let's just get this over with."


	81. And Chaos Ensues

**And Chaos Ensues**

It was a strange thing, being approached by random strangers as I moved through the crowd. I was so used to being avoided in public that it was almost like an out-of-body experience to have individuals purposely reaching out to me.

People- mutants and humans alike- kept stopping me and trying to thank me for what I'd done for mutant kind. Some of the mutants said they would've never come forward about their powers to their families and close friends without my example.

_These people are going to think my natural color is_ purple  _and not blue, with all the blushing I'm doing._

I tried to be polite as possible, but truthfully I wasn't sure how to handle their expressions of gratitude. Mostly I felt awkward and a vague yearning for my serum, so I could just be anonymous again. It wasn't like I'd done any of this for personal acknowledgement, after all.

It made me wish that Zoey was there with me. She was so much better than I was at social interactions.

The attention was detrimental for another reason- it was making it impossible for me to help look for Erik and Raven, leaving Charles alone in that endeavor. He had the best chances of locating Raven through her mind, but I'd hoped I might be able to assist him by sniffing her out somehow. The crush of people was unfortunately making that impossible.

"You're like a celebrity now," Sean teased as the four of us X-Men moved towards the stage.

Gwen and Moira had already drifted off to be with the other pro-mutant protesters. We hoped that being away from us if a conflict broke out would provide them both a little safety.

"Can I have your autograph, Beast?"

I scowled at him. "That's not funny."

Alex snickered. "Yes it is."

"Gentlemen," Charles chastised absently, still focused on finding Raven.

On the positive side of this new-found notoriety I was suddenly experiencing, the other people in the crowd who recognized me parted ways to let us through to the front row without complaint. We reached the edge of the audience to stand directly in front of the small stage while only dealing with the obstacle of being distracted by well-wishers.

_Now I know how Zoey feels about people touching her tummy,_ I thought to myself in exasperation as random people patted me on the back.  _Personal space, kind people. Please._

Charles still hadn't found his sister by the time a press secretary came out to introduce Senator Kelly to the crowd.

"-And now, please welcome member of the ninety-third Congress, Senator Robert Kelly," the man announced, trying to drum up some applause.

His attempts failed. Kelly took the podium to a chorus of boos, waving genially.

Alex used the opportunity to yell at the congressman to, and I quote: "stick it where the sun don't shine, asshole!"

_Very mature, Alex._

"Thank you, thank you," Kelly said, with an aplomb I begrudgingly admired. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen."

He paused for dramatic effect.

"Mutants," he announced. "They  _are_  among us-"

"No shit, Sherlock," Alex muttered.

_Indeed_.

"-And they are a danger to us  _all_. These are people who have unnatural abilities, abilities that are a threat to every man, woman and child in this beautiful country. Super strength, shape-shifting, the ability to start fires- what's to stop these mutants from breaking into a bank, or impersonating the president, or burning down a home? Burning down  _our_  homes?"

He took a moment to let that sink in.

"The same thing that stops a human from grabbing a book of matches and doing the same damn thing!" someone shouted from within the crowd. "Common decency!"

"Here, here!"

Several others whistled to show their agreement.

Kelly blinked in surprise- I don't think he expected his audience to contain hecklers. He was a man, I think, much like Senator McCarthy back in the 1950s. Eager to point the finger and play on people's fears to start the witch hunt. Communists, mutants. We were all the same to them.

I grinned at Kelly's discomfit.

_People are smarter than that now, Senator._

"Th-the point is, these  _mutants_  are dangerous. And I think the American people deserve the right to decide if they want their children to be in school with mutants. To be taught by mutants. To sit next to them on the bus! Ladies and gentlemen, we must know who these mutants are, and above all, what they can do!"

The Friends of Humanity members of the audience applauded at that statement, but I'm proud to say that the majority of the crowd was quiet. Their silent disapproval was a weight over us all.

"I'm proposing a piece of legislation called the Mutant Registration Act. It will require all mutants to notify the government what their powers are and to wear an identifying-"

But we never got to find out what mutants would be required to wear, because at that moment the microphone began to vibrate uncontrollably, cutting Senator Kelly off.

The apparatus holding the red cloth backdrop in place behind the podium then blew backwards- along with all the people on the stage. They collapsed in a heap beneath the curtain, their struggling vaguely reminding me of Charlie the cat's panic after he weaseled himself under a blanket and couldn't find his way out at home.

At the same time, the firearms of every single police officer present in the park lifted into the air-

And aimed themselves at the crowd.

_Oh my stars and garters._

Some people screamed and tried to run away, but the guns fired a few warning shots without any visible operator. Everyone ducked and cowered away from the threat, while the police were left helpless. The press of people looked to be on the verge of a stampede.

Having successfully created chaos, the perpetrator of all this mayhem chose that moment to finally make his appearance.

Erik Lehnsherr, looking the part of a villain in his helmet and cape, floated down from the sky onto the stage with a smug grin on his face. The podium's microphone floated into his hand like he was the new emcee of this little shindig.

I swore silently to myself.

_Of all times to make an overly dramatic entrance, he has to pick_ now _?_

"Humans!" Erik announced in a commanding voice. "You try to make laws to-"

_Time to move fast._

"Havok!" Charles commanded desperately, trying to set our plan in motion.

Alex raised his arm to take aim at Erik-

And all three of us non-telepathic X-Men dropped to our knees, blinded by a pain so strong it was like a huge nail was driving through our skulls.

I could barely think, barely hear. All of my senses fell away, leaving only an exquisite agony behind.

"Emma Frost," I choked out. "Charles-"

"I'm trying-"

"-You're right to fear us," Erik declared. "We are the future!  _We_  are the ones who will inherit this earth! And we will  _not_  allow ourselves to be placed in chains! Let this man's death be an example-"

_He's going to kill Senator Kelly. We can't let-_

I strained to get up, but that was a useless effort. It felt like someone was stabbing all of my limbs with a knife wrapped in barbed-wire.

"To my mutant brothers and sisters out there, I say this: no more hiding. You have lived in the shadows in shame and fear for too long-"

Barely able to see through the agony, I caught sight of Emma Frost grinning viciously at us from among the line of pro-mutant protesters just in time to see Moira and Gwen sneak up behind her and whack her on the head with their picketing signs.

_May God bless you, ladies._

It was just the distraction Charles needed. He was immediately able to get under Emma's mental shields and freeze her, though his strained expression indicated how taxing that was.

"I've got her!"

The torment in my head finally lifted, leaving a faintly ringing echo in my ears. I wanted to collapse, to bask in the relief of the absence of pain, but there was no time.

"A new tomorrow, that starts today!" Erik finished grandly.

He began to turn towards the men on the stage behind him, now free from the curtain and frozen in terror-

And then Alex hit him with a well-aimed energy blast, right in the chest. Erik's eyes bulged out almost comically as he collapsed like a rag doll.

_Now!_

I sprang into action, bounding onto the stage from the front row in one leap and ripping Erik's stupid helmet off.

In my peripheral vision I saw Sean and Alex running to subdue Emma, leaving Charles free to control Erik before he recovered himself.

The guns that had been floating in the air under his power now fell down into the waiting hands of the policemen, several of whom made a mad dash for the stage to tackle Magneto.

He glowered at me from his prone position on the platform's floor, but I felt no compassion towards him at all.

_You deserve every second of misery you get, Erik. For_ wasting  _your gifts on hatred and war._

But this wasn't quite over yet. There was still one player left unaccounted for.

Raven.

My eyes found her easily, the one person wearing an expression of grim determination and focus rather than panic in all the chaos reigning on the stage.

It was like I saw her moving in slow motion, reaching for the gun at her hip as she shape-shifted out of her congressional aide disguise and into her natural blue form.

Senator Kelly could do nothing but gaze at his executioner in terror as she raised the gun, aiming for his head-

I heedlessly jumped, hurdling over the police, and tackled Raven just as she pulled the trigger.

I didn't even stop to consider what a bad idea it was to risk my life like that, _especially_ for a man such as Robert Kelly. He was despicable and execrable, but I knew I couldn't let him die at the hands of a mutant.

It would just prove him right and cement the passage of his hateful bill with his death, ruining the lives of my children and mutants everywhere.

I couldn't let that happen.

There was a loud, deafening bang, followed by a searing pain in my chest and screams from the crowd.

In my mind's eye I saw a vision of Zoey's face, wearing that brave little smile as I promised I'd come home to her tonight-

And then everything went dark.


	82. A Promise Kept

**A Promise Kept**

_"Hank! I need you, darling. You said you'd come back to me."_

_Zoey? How are you here? I thought..._

"Z-zoey?" I asked groggily.

"Who's Zoey?" an unfamiliar voice queried.

"His wife," Alex's voice replied edgily. "Beast, you alive in there?"

_No, I'm obviously a talking corpse._

I reluctantly opened my eyes, squinting against the light overhead.

Alex's face, pale and pinched with worry, swam into focus above me. His expression became relieved when he saw my eyes open.

"'M fine," I muttered. "Is Zoey here?"

Another man- who I suspected was a paramedic, if his uniform was anything to go by- peered over me as well. He flashed a light into my pupils, making me screw my eyes shut again.

"Sorry. Your wife isn't here, Dr. McCoy," the man said calmly. "You've been out for over twenty minutes, and now you're in an ambulance. We're taking you to the hosp-"

_Huh? Oh, right._

It all came rushing back- Erik and the Brotherhood crashing Senator Kelly's speech, Magneto's hateful words, helping the X-Men neutralize him, and then getting shot by Raven.

On national television. Which my wife was watching.

My insides turned glacial at the thought, icy dread flooding through my nervous system.

_Zoey's probably freaking out. The twins..._

"May I use a telephone, please?" I asked apprehensively, attempting to sit up.

The two paramedics gently tried to push me down, though that obviously didn't work. "Don't-"

"I'm a feral mutant, gentlemen," I interrupted, sitting up completely over their protests. "Take the bullet out, give me a band-aid and I'll be fine.  _Please,_  may I use the phone?"

They exchanged incredulous glances.

"Look," I offered impatiently, reaching up with my right hand and pulling off the bandage they'd already placed about three inches below my left collarbone.

_Ow. Tape on fur, whose bright idea was that?_

I slowly rotated my shoulder, wincing from the pain. It stung, yes, but it was nothing too horrible. But I clearly wasn't bleeding, and probably hadn't been for some time now. My being unconscious had sped the process up immensely.

The paramedics stared at my rapidly healing wound with evident amazement.

_Hey, there has to be one silver lining to looking like this, right?_

"The bullet's pushing itself out, but we can hurry it along. I can feel it, maybe an inch below the surface already. Just take it out, please. There's no need for the hospital," I pleaded. "And I need to call my wife and let her know I'm alright. She's thirty-three weeks pregnant, and if she saw me get shot on television..."

What if the shock sent her into labor too soon?

My fur stood on end just thinking about the dangerous possibilities, for both mother and babies.

I  _knew,_  deep in my bones, that all was not well with Zoey. I still didn't put much store in gut feelings like that, but I couldn't shake this one. Especially when I remembered her disembodied voice, calling to me right before I woke up.

I had to find out for sure, or the uncertainty of not knowing would surely drive me mad.

Finally, the paramedics relented. They even let me use the car phone while they removed the bullet, using a tiny scalpel and a set of forceps to fish it out.

It was Billy who answered our telephone.

_"Hello?"_ he asked anxiously.

"Mr. Rivers, it's me," I said. "Is Zoey-?"

_"Oh, thank God,"_ Billy breathed.  _"You alright, kid?"_

"I'm fine," I replied quickly. "But Zoey-?"

_"You scared us all to death, Hank. Zoey's water broke, seeing you get shot like that-"_

The bottom of my stomach dropped out.

_No!_

I hissed, hearing my worst fears confirmed.

And it didn't help that that was the exact moment when the paramedic plucked the bullet out from my chest, either.

_Ow._

_"Marceline, Chloe and Maeve took her to the hospital. Me and Livie stayed back just in case you called,"_ Billy explained.

"I'll get there as soon as I can," I promised.

_"You better, kid. Zoey was really upset. They cut out the news feed right after that, so none of us knew what happened to you."_

I cringed, thinking of the agony my wife must be going through as she tried to give birth to our children without knowing if their father was even still alive. Billy would be able to assure her now that I was fine and on my way, but that wasn't enough.

I needed to  _be_  there. To hold her hand and be supportive through to the very end.

_Missing this isn't an option,_ I told myself firmly.

* * *

The paramedics were nice enough to turn around and bring us back to the park where the day's fiasco had unfolded. Alex insisted that I keep the bullet after they removed it from my flesh.

"What?" he demanded when I gave him a skeptical look. "You can show your kids when they're older. 'This is the bullet I got shot with when I saved that prick Senator Kelly on the day you were born. Your Uncle Alex made sure I kept it, because he's awesome.'"

I shook my head. "I had no idea you were so sentimental," I mused.

The park was mostly empty of people now, with the exception of a multitude of police and government entities and the odd news station crew- all of which we pointedly avoided as we hurried to our van.

My gait felt stiff and unnatural because of the lingering soreness from my wound. It would be tender for a couple days, but otherwise I was fine. My mental state of mind was  _definitely_  a different story.

"Alex! Hank!" female voices called out from our right.

It was Moira and Gwen, both running frantically towards Alex and I. They joined us in our rush towards the car.

"Thank God you're ok!" Moira cried, giving me a one-armed maternal hug.

Gwen smacked me on my "good" shoulder, which still somehow managed to hurt. "What were you  _thinking_? You probably made Zo shit a brick with that stunt," she yelled.

"Says the girl who took out a human-hating telepath with a picketing sign," Alex retorted affectionately.

"Zoey's in labor," I explained, before the two of them could get into some sort of verbal sparring match. "So can we please-?"

Thankfully, no one brooked any argument about immediately jumping into the van and setting off for Salem Center.

"Charles and Sean are staying behind to monitor the situation," Moira announced, after a moment of telepathic communication with her husband.

"What happened after Raven shot me?" I asked. I was mildly curious, but mainly I was craving the distraction from brooding over Zoey's condition.

_How far backward have mutant-human relations been set today? Should I be worried about an angry mob popping up wherever I go?_

"Well, you landed on Mystique so hard when she shot you that she split her skull-" Moira began.

_Hmm. No, not sorry about that. Tit for tat, I should think._

"-And that dazed her long enough for the police to get a hold of her. They got Emma, too. And then Charles kept Magneto frozen until someone found an anesthetic to knock him out for a while, until they get him to a metal-free prison under the Pentagon or something."

"So they're all in custody?" I asked.

Moira nodded, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

_That's definitely a relief._

"How did the humans react to everything?"

She shrugged. "No one attacked each other in the crowd, if that's what you're asking. Charles and the police were able to keep things calm. And Senator Kelly didn't finish his speech after you took a bullet for him- his security team immediately whisked him away. He looked pretty shaken, honestly."

"I heard people quoting you, Hank," Gwen added brightly. "'Some mutants are bad, but most of them are good.' Someone said, 'thank goodness there were mutants in the crowd. Maybe they should allow them to openly serve on the police force, like Dr. McCoy says.' They kept talking about how you're a good man because you saved Kelly's life even though he's so anti-mutant. You're a hero!"

I snorted disbelievingly. Me, a hero?

Now  _that_  was a laughable idea.

"There's no love lost between that man and myself. I just knew that if a mutant killed him they would pass that bill no matter what," I explained. "At least now if we do enough damage control maybe we can kill the support it has after Erik's little performance today."

_But first, it's baby time._

* * *

We got to the hospital in record time, thanks to Alex driving the wheels off the van like he was trying out for NASCAR. I opened the door and hopped out before he stopped the car, making a frantic dash for the hospital's front door.

I moved so fast the automatic door's motion sensor didn't even see me. As such, I ran face-first into the glass and cracked it with my nose.

_Ow_ _. Today is_ not  _my day._

Eyes streaming, I blindly stumbled inside. I took the stairs two at a time up to the maternity ward on the second floor, feeling much too impatient to wait for the elevator.

"Hank!" several voices called out as I stepped out of the stairwell. "Oh, thank God!"

Billy, Marceline, Chloe, Maeve, and Olivia swarmed me.

"Are you ok?"

"What's happening now?"

"Uncle Hank, don't you  _ever_  do that to me again!"

I smiled weakly, trying to be polite despite the insistent refrain in my head.

_Get to Zoey. Zoey and the twins, get to them-_

"I'm fine," I said quickly, edging towards the nurses' station. "Moira can tell you more. Zoey-"

"Go, go!" Marceline urged. "I'll be there in a moment."

The nurse on duty blinked when she saw me, her hand already reaching for the phone. "Sir, the ER is on the first floor-"

I glanced down at my shirt, still covered in blood.

_Oh, right. Oops._

"I-I don't need a doctor, ma'am," I explained, tripping over the words in my hurry. "My wife is here, Zoey McCoy-?"

She glanced down. "Room 228, I'll walk-"

I didn't hear the rest of her sentence- I was already making a break for the hallway. I came skidding to a stop in front of Zoey's room and burst through the door.

The nurse inside jumped with a small yelp, making paperwork go flying.

"Hank!" my wife cried out. "You're-"

"-Keeping my promise."


	83. Perfect

**Perfect**

I stumbled to Zoey's side, unable to take my eyes off her pale, clammy face. It looked like she'd just gone through a contraction.

There was a small bowl of water with a sponge in it at her bedside, so I immediately grabbed it and started dabbing at her forehead.

"How're you feeling?" I asked anxiously. "How far apart are your contractions? How dilated are you? Have they checked the heartbeats?"

_Yeah, I did the new daddy homework._

"Zoey, I'm so sorry!"

I turned to the nurse, who was now surrounded by the paperwork on the floor and watching me with no small amount of bewilderment.

I suppose I couldn't blame her- a big blue monster covered in blood had just burst into the room and started to hover over her patient like a gigantic furry butterfly.

"Sorry about frightening you, ma'am," I said, "but how-?"

"Hank, darling, I'm fine. Everything's  _fine_ ," Zoey interjected, pulling my attention back to her. "Are  _you_  ok? I was so afraid- I saw you get shot-"

"I'm fine," I promised, brushing my hand across her cheek. "I'm healing right up. It'll take more than that to get rid of me, my love."

She let out a deep, shuddering sigh of relief and pulled me closer by the collar to cover my face with kisses.

"Don't you  _ever_  do that to me again!" she scolded, shaking me slightly. "You scared me to death!"

The rebuke was softened by another kiss.

"Yes, ma'am," I demurred. "I'm so sorry, Zoey. I feel awful for-"

"Before you beat yourself up too much, apparently I was already in labor when you left this morning. Remember how much my back hurt?" Zoey reminded me. "Seeing that just... sped up the process, really."

"What-?"

Just then she let out a small cry. Her face screwed up with pain as a contraction wracked through her body.

My question completely flew out of my head.

_What do I do? What do I do?_

The only thing I could think of was to grab Zoey's hand and let her try to squeeze the life out of mine as she rode out the pain, her breath coming in gasps.

"It's time to push," the nurse announced crisply, going for the call button.

_It's time already? Oh, my stars and garters._

It did not escape me that my view of "already" was actually several painful hours in on this process for Zoey. It made me feel terrible about my eleventh hour arrival.

"That's some impeccable timing you have, Dr. McCoy," Zoey joked weakly as the nurse began to bustle around, echoing my thoughts. "Where's Marcy?"

"In the waiting room," I replied. "Do you want me to-?"

She grasped my hand tightly and looked slightly panicked. "No! Don't leave!"

"Ok, ok," I assured her, squeezing gently. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Would you like a chair, Dr. McCoy?" the middle-aged nurse- Nurse Jackson, according to her name tag- asked politely.

Until she mentioned it I hadn't even realized I'd actually been kneeling next to Zoey's hospital bed this entire time.

"Yes, please," I accepted sheepishly, clambering to my feet.

Nurse Jackson gave me an amused smile as she slid a chair over.

Now that she'd gotten over the shock of me barging in unannounced she seemed to find my frazzled demeanor to be rather funny. It made me wonder how often fathers made panicked runs into the birthing room nowadays. Did it happen on a regular basis?

_Wait. Focus._

"Thank you," I told her gratefully, sitting down.

Another contraction hit Zoey then.

She squeezed my hand and looked at me with pain-filled eyes as I hovered uselessly at her side, desperately trying to think of words of comfort and encouragement while I sponged at her face with my free hand.

What could I even say to her? _"Just breathe?"_

I wouldn't blame Zoey at all for smacking me upside the head for such a trite, unhelpful comment.

_"Just breathe?"_

Right, like she was holding her breath until I got around to reminding her.

_Twenty-nine years of life and a Ph.D. and that's all you can think of? Try harder, McCoy._

"You can do this, sweetheart. You're so brave and beautiful," I babbled, kissing the fingers clenched around mine. "You're strong, Zoey. You can do  _anything_. Don't fight it, love, just ride it out-"

I kept prattling on while more nurses entered the room and set everything up, barely noticing the askance glances I was getting. I just concentrated on Zoey, who in turn focused on me.

Her eyes bored into mine, even as the contractions began to come in waves.

"-You know, sometimes I feel like any moment I'm going to wake up and discover all of this has been a dream," I told her. "You still feel too good to be true, like you're my own personal miracle. You're the most incredibly amazing person I've ever met, but you've loved me and now you're the mother of my children and-  _thank you,_  for everything. I love you so much, Zoey. I know you can-"

"I'm here, I'm here. I got distracted out there," Marceline's voice suddenly said. "I'm so sorry,  _ma petite_."

I glanced up and saw Zoey's godmother come bustling in, ducking around the nurses with an agility that belied her age. She took up her post on my wife's other side while the nurses placed Zoey's legs in a better position and adjusted her gown.

"Mrs. Xavier was saying the metal man and the blue woman who shot Hank were arrested!"

"No one got a shot off on Mystique?" Zoey muttered sardonically. "There went my good vibe."

I snorted. Even with the amount of pain she was in, my wife definitely still had her sense of humor.

Dr. Stevenson breezed into the room then, and suddenly the idea that we were about to greet our twins for the first time started to feel very,  _very_  real.

_I really should've gone to the bathroom before this._

"Alright, Dr. McCoy, it's time to have some babies," Dr. Stevenson said brightly, ducking between my wife's legs. "Now I need you to  _really_  push when you feel the next contraction, ok?"

Zoey's nod was cut off by another contraction.

"Push!"

Her eyes squeezed shut as she pushed with all her might. Zoey gritted her teeth and let out a strangled cry as her hands clenched mine and Marceline's.

"Scream if you want to,  _ma petite_ ," Marceline said encouragingly. "Anything that helps."

_She's a screamer all right. I mean, that's kinda how we got here..._

_Ok, maybe that's not the best thought to have right now._

"You can do it, darling," I told her. "Just keep going-"

"Again!"

And so it went, on and on until I started to wonder if Zoey, with her narrow hips and petite frame, was going to be able to deliver the way she wanted to. The longer we didn't progress, the more likely she or the twins could be hurt. That was a risk I simply couldn't tolerate.

I was just about to suggest a cesarean in desperation when the doctor announced, "I see the head! One more good push, Dr. McCoy, come on-"

Zoey  _did_  scream this time as the baby crowned and she gave one great big push.

And then-

"Well done, well done," the doctor told her. "It's a boy. That's one down-"

An infantile cry filled the room, causing my heart to leap into my throat.

_We have a son. Oh, Zoey, we have a son!_

And our son was a  _very_  healthy baby boy, if the volume of his screams was anything to go by. Suddenly I had hopes that the premature birth wouldn't have any negative effects on Zoey or the twins.

_Please, let all three of them make it through this._

I glanced away from Zoey's face just in time to catch a flash of blue- blue, the same color as my fur- as a nurse whisked our newborn son over to an incubator to thoroughly check him over.

_No, bring him back! We want to see him!_

It was severely tempting to go see my child right then, but I knew we weren't done quite yet. We still had another baby to deliver.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart. Now you're halfway there," I said bracingly. "One more time, Zoey, you can do it-"

It took another agonizing ten minutes before the second baby crowned.

"Alright, give me one more big push, come on," Dr. Stevenson encouraged. "The head's right- there we go!"

And a second cry joined the first.

"Another boy! Congratulations to you both."

My wife, trembling from her efforts, fell back against her hospital bed like all of her bones had suddenly gone on vacation.

"You did it,  _cher_ ," Marceline cheered triumphantly. "Oh, Zoey, I'm so proud of you!"

Zoey gave her a wan smile in reply before turning her head towards me. She was exhausted, pale, sweaty- and absolutely beautiful in my eyes.

I brushed a limp curl back from her precious face and leaned in to give her an ardent kiss.

"You're amazing," I whispered fervently. "I love you so much, Zoey."

"I love you, Hank," she replied, smiling. Her eyes glowed at me and wrapped me in her warmth, even through her fatigue. "Could you-?"

She gestured weakly towards the incubators where the nurses were still hovering over our sons.

"Please?"

I nodded (trying not to seem  _too_  eager to leave her side) and kissed the back of her hand before I stood and started to loiter unhelpfully behind the nurses, trying to peer over their heads.

Nurse Jackson caught onto my curiosity almost immediately.

"Congratulations, Dr. McCoy," she said warmly.

I grinned stupidly. "Thank you. Are they-?"

"So far, so good. Here-"

She shooed another nurse out of the way, giving me my first good look at our Beast-spawn sea monkey babies.

Our sons.

_I'm a father. I'm a father!_

My heart melted- suddenly I found myself falling in love all over again.

"Zoey," I said. "Oh, sweetheart- they're  _perfect_."

Perfect.

Not "normal," by any means, but our twins were perfect all the same.

For all my fears of passing on my mutation to my children, the moment I saw my sons laying there I knew that I wouldn't have them any other way but exactly what they were.

A piece of Zoey and myself, our love personified.

Both of them had full heads of bright blue hair. The color contrasted almost comically against the presently purplish-pink of their bare skin, still discolored from the womb. Each baby had adorably chubby cheeks and dimpled little hands, currently flailing about as they voiced their displeasure with their current circumstances in screams that could raise the dead.

They were identical. Both tiny, but otherwise healthy.

And both had a full complement of ten monkey-toes.


	84. The Secretary of Mutant Affairs

**The Secretary of Mutant Affairs**

"Oh, aren't they  _adorable_?" Marceline gushed, appearing at my side after what felt like an eternity suspended in a single moment.

The older woman clapped her hands gleefully and turned towards me.

"What are their names?"

_Um..._

We'd never actually got around to deciding on names. In our defense, we thought we had a few more weeks to chose. And I, for one, hadn't taken the time to think about baby names during the chaos of this day.

"Hank?" Zoey called out anxiously, distracting me. "How are they?"

I rushed back to her side and kissed her again.

"They're beautiful, darling, just like you," I told her earnestly.

She laughed at my uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

"Can I hold them yet?" Zoey asked a nurse. "Please?"

The nurse looked at Dr. Stevenson, who had just finished his own final review of the newborns. He nodded and smiled warmly.

"I'd say so. They're in perfect health," he announced. "Congratulations again."

Zoey's face lit up like the Fourth of July when she saw our children for the first time. Her gasp of delight was followed quickly by happy tears pouring out of her eyes.

"You're right, Hank," she laughed. "Oh, they're  _perfect_!"

She held her hands out eagerly to the nurses bringing them over. Within minutes both boys were laying on her chest, skin-to-skin, while I leaned in as close as I could and Marceline ran out to tell everyone that all was well.

"You're both so handsome, just like your daddy," Zoey cooed, stroking each little head of blue hair and set of chubby pink cheeks.

I chuckled and kissed her cheek, feeling rather awestruck as I watched our children quiet and calm while they lay on their mother.

Which was just as well, because my eardrums needed the break.

Our twins were just so  _little_ \- if I really tried I was certain I could hold a baby in each hand. And both were incredibly alert, watching me curiously as I put my fingers into theirs to grasp with dark eyes that already held a decidedly gold tint. I was sure the color would only intensify as they got older.

_Hi, babies. I'm your dad. You're a piece of your mom and myself and you're both living, breathing_ miracles _._

"What are we going to call them?" Zoey murmured.

I considered it for a moment. "What about naming them after your dad and Billy? Edward for the older baby and William for the younger?"

"Edward Phillip and William Henry?" she proposed hesitantly, pointing to each baby in turn.

"Perfect," I agreed, kissing her again. "Absolutely perfect."

* * *

After a bit, Zoey was able to get the twins to nurse for the first time. I got to hold William while she fed Edward, and then we switched. I divided my attention between staring at the baby in my arms and observing the motherly glow my wife exuded as she fed each one, all the while trying not to explode from fatherly pride.

It was all I could do to keep myself from running out into the waiting room to show them off.

_Look! Look what we made together! Aren't they amazing?_

But eventually I was kicked out of the room so both mother and children could be cleaned up.

I wandered into the waiting area instead, where all of our friends- including Charles and Sean, who'd obviously arrived very recently- proceeded to bombard me with congratulations and questions after I presented them with two sets of monkey-toed baby footprints.

"I can't wait 'til they meet their Uncles Alex and Sean," Alex said smugly.

And then he punched me in my injured shoulder.

"Shit! Sorry!"

_Hmm. No baby-holding for you._

"When can we see them?" Olivia asked excitedly.

"What are their names?"

"We named them Edward and William," I explained. "For Zoey's dad- and you, Mr. Rivers."

The old man immediately got so teary-eyed that he had to excuse himself for a moment, so I think he was quite touched.

I turned to Charles.

"Congratulations, Hank," Charles said warmly, giving my hand a hearty shake.

His presence instantly reminded me of the mayhem I left behind in my mad dash to get here for Zoey. I felt an odd mixture of guilt and defiance over my actions- after all, for all my efforts in the quest for mutant rights, I'd excused myself at a rather crucial moment today.

But at the same time, I knew my place was at Zoey's side while she gave birth to our sons. And I refused to apologize to anyone for that.

"What happened-?" I began.

"Hey, look!" Gwen cut in suddenly, pointing to the little television set in the waiting area. "Senator Kelly's making an announcement."

Charles gave me a knowing smile and gestured towards the television.

Sean hurriedly reached out and turned up the volume. All of us crowded around, holding our breath.

_"Good evening. I'd like to address the occurrences at my presentation of the Mutant Registration Bill in Albany, New York today. Earlier this morning the mutant madman who calls himself Magneto disrupted the event by holding a crowd of both humans and mutants hostage. He then made an inflammatory speech, which would've culminated in the deaths of myself and my colleagues. I have no doubt that Magneto was going to murder us all in cold blood-"_

My heart sank. It seemed that, despite everything, Kelly was going to use Erik and Raven's attempt on his life to justify the passage of his bill.

Had all our efforts been wasted?

_"But Magneto and his associates did not succeed. And the only reason for their failure was thanks to the timely intervention of other mutants in the audience. One mutant, in fact, took a bullet meant for myself in his efforts to save me."_

Everyone glanced at me and grinned slyly.

Meanwhile, Senator Kelly looked deeply uncomfortable. Was this the expression of a man whose worldview had just been turned on its head?

Suddenly I began to hope.

_"That mutant was the well-known activist Dr. Hank McCoy, who I've received word is now recovering from his wound. To him I would like to say, 'thank you.' Thank you for both my life and the others with me today. And I would also like to thank the other mutants in the audience who did not listen to Magneto's detestable message and allow hatred into their hearts."_

He paused.

_"The events of today have provided a lesson for all of us, and most especially for myself. Dr. McCoy has said that there are good mutants and bad mutants, just as there are good humans and bad humans. The presence of an 'X-gene' does not change the fact that we are all simply people, equal under the eyes of God. And I thank God that this country is made up of more good_ people  _than bad."_

You could've heard a pin drop in that waiting room.

Glancing around, I could see Marceline's lips moving in a silent prayer as she held onto Billy with a vice-like grip. Alex and Gwen were like statues, clutching at each other's hands while Charles and Moira did the same. Chloe was squeezing her daughter tightly, and Maeve and Sean were cradling Theresa (who had recently begun to break glass when she screamed) between them.

Humans praying for mutants. Mutants saving humans. Humans and mutants loving each other with all their hearts. Who dared to say we couldn't peacefully coexist?

_"With that knowledge in mind, I formally withdraw my proposed Mutant Registration Bill from consideration. The government has no right to discriminate against its own citizens-"_

Kelly might've said more, but we were no longer listening.

Instead we erupted into cheers and exultant shouts at the news that we'd won, and violence and bigotry had lost.

Oh, I didn't truly believe Kelly's change of heart was sincere. He was a politician- he knew he would never get re-elected if he pushed his already unpopular bill forward after a mutant saved his life. It would be quite a poor display of gratitude, after all.

And, more importantly, by withdrawing that hateful proposal he removed the motivation for any mutants who might've listened to Erik's poisonous words and revolted against the government in response.

Kelly was covering his own posterior, but I didn't care.

Zoey, my sons, and mutants across the nation were safe, for now. And that was all that mattered.

* * *

Zoey and the twins left the hospital a mere two days later.

Upon arriving home, my wife and I took a moment to cuddle close together on the couch with Edward and William perched carefully on my lap so we could simply marvel at our creations.

"They picked the perfect day to be born, didn't they?" Zoey teased softly. "How are you going to save mutant kind next, Hank? Put forth an equal rights bill for mutants?"

"I didn't save-"

She laughed and gave me a kiss, interrupting my protest. "You never give yourself enough credit, darling. If it weren't for you, who knows what would've happened?"

Zoey carefully leaned over and kissed each of our sons.

"Your daddy is my Prince Charming, sea monkeys," she murmured. "And now he's a hero for  _everyone_."

My retort was cut off by the phone ringing.

"I'll get it," I said quickly, before the noise woke the babies up. "Hello?"

_"Hello. Is this Dr. Hank McCoy?"_

"Yes. Can I help you?" I asked, warily curious.

_"I sure hope so,"_ the voice on the other end chuckled.  _"This is the president-"_

I almost dropped the phone in surprise.

"E-excuse me? 'The president,' as in President Ford?" I sputtered.

Zoey's mouth dropped open in shock.

_"The very same. We've got a situation, Dr. McCoy. Mutants are starting to come out of hiding, and if we're going to be the country we_ claim  _to be, they need representation in the government,"_  President Ford explained.  _"So I'm creating a new seat in my Cabinet- the Secretary for Mutant Affairs. And_   _I think you, with your obvious integrity and intelligence, are just right for the job. What do you say?"_

"I-I think I need to speak to my wife first," I replied, still flabbergasted. "Thank you for the opportunity, sir. I'll definitely be getting back to you."

We said our goodbyes, and then I turned to Zoey, who was waiting eagerly.

"He wants to appoint me to his Cabinet. The Secretary for Mutant Affairs," I told her, awestruck.

I couldn't believe it. Me, a politician? An official representative for our kind?

The old me would've rejected such an idea out-of-hand. I could  _never_  put myself out there like that.

But that was before I met Zoey and accepted myself completely. Before I had children. Before I found something worth fighting for, worth changing for.

Something worth taking a chance for.

"What do you think?"

"I think you should do it," Zoey replied, her eyes shining. "Think of all the good you could do, Hank."

"But you and the twins-?"

She shook her head. "We'll make it work," she said firmly. "Do what you think is right, darling. You know I'll support you, no matter what."

How could I have doubts in the face of such certainty and faith? Zoey believed in me, and I would do all I could to never let her down. My amazing, wonderful wife- with her beside me, I knew I could do anything.

_Including_  winning the fight for mutant rights in our country. The fight I joined for not only her sake, but our children as well. My _family_.

"Ok," I agreed. "I'll do it."

Zoey smiled and snuggled up against my side.

"I'm  _so_  proud of you," she murmured. "I love you, Hank."

"I love you, Zoey," I replied, kissing her head.

_And I'm never letting you- or our children- go._

I wrapped one arm around her again, cradling our twins easily with the other.

The fight for mutant rights would still be waiting for me tomorrow.

But for now, I would enjoy my family.


	85. Epilogue (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's post is the original epilogue of this story, but I'm adding another chapter after it that was originally posted as a separate one shot, "A Fine Summer's Day," on fanfiction.net. It picks up a few years after this chapter, but I still felt it was worth posting on here.
> 
> Note that today's chapter is in present tense, unlike all the previous entries. Essentially this entire story has been a flashback for Hank, and now we're back in his present time- February 20, 1981.

**Epilogue- 1981**

"Dr. McCoy?"

I blink, coming back to the present from my trip down memory lane rather abruptly. On a day like this- a culmination of so many things- it's easy to get a little lost in my own head, remembering.

"Sorry, Mr. President," I say sheepishly. "I got sidetracked for a moment."

The recently sworn-in President Ronald Reagan smiles genially, though there is a hint of concern in his eyes. I'm sure he's wondering if his newly-reappointed Secretary of Mutant Affairs is still up for the task.

He will be the third president I've served under. Presidents Ford, Carter, and now Reagan have all called on me to represent mutant issues within the government, providing a voice for my kind.

It's been hard, challenging work, but truly fulfilling.

And today, February 20, 1981, has seen the fruition of almost seven years of laborious effort on my part. President Reagan just signed the Mutant Rights Act, officially making it illegal to discriminate against American citizens based on their genetics and giving mutants equal protection under the Constitution.

It's also the thirteenth anniversary of the day I first saw Zoey, the day I took the first step towards realizing my own potential. Without her love, her support, I never would've come this far.

I feel compelled to explain my distraction to the president.

"Today's the anniversary of the day I first saw my wife," I tell him. "You signing this law today just reminds me of how I wouldn't be here, sitting across from you, if I hadn't met her."

The president's smile is more sincere this time. "She sounds like quite a woman."

I grin.

Dr. Zoey McCoy, CEO of Dubois Enterprises since the age of eighteen, has single-handedly guided her company from a four-factory business into a national corporation that rivals the size of DuPont- all while being a mother to three children and wife to the happiest husband in the world. She's also found time to coauthor two books on mutant genetics with me.

_"Quite a woman"_ doesn't even  _begin_  to describe her.

"That she is," I agree.

* * *

It's evening by the time I arrive home for the night, carrying blue primroses and a bag of Hershey kisses for my lady, and Reese's for the kids.

"I'm home," I call out as I set down my gifts and take off my shoes.

There's a roast in the oven and a spongecake on the counter, but otherwise the kitchen is deserted. I listen and hear the giggling of the children, but not the laughter I consider the most precious. My suspicions are immediately raised.

"Kids-?"

"Daddy, Daddy," my daughter yells.

Soleil Marceline, all of three and a half years old, comes running into the kitchen carrying a resigned-looking Sydney around his middle to greet me. Lucie and Charlie prance along behind her, following like little shadows.

My daughter is the child I wistfully envisioned when Zoey and I first talked of starting a family. Her hair is dark brown, like mine used to be, and her eyes are Zoey's beautiful emerald green. According to Marceline, Soleil is the spitting-image of Brigitte Lemieux, her maternal grandmother.

Except for Soleil's quirky eyebrows. Those are from me.

Unlike the rest of us, Soleil's completely, one hundred percent human. It's something that happens occasionally, when both parents are mutants.

When Soleil was born Zoey and I made the difficult decision to not enroll our boys at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. We want our daughter to never feel excluded within her own family for being the only non-mutant.

Once she's old enough, she'll go to the same school as William and Edward, and I have no doubt that she'll do just as well as they do. At six years old, my sons are already in the fourth grade.

"Hey, sunshine," I say, kneeling down to her level. "Put Sid down, honey. He's getting old, remember? And besides, your daddy needs a 'hello hug.'"

Sydney gives me a grateful look, if that's possible, when Soleil drops him and runs into my arms. I scoop her up easily.

"Where's Mommy and your brothers?"

"We're playing hide and seek!"

_Oh, dear._

I swipe the primroses off the counter and carry Soleil into the family room, where William and Edward are using the furniture, light fixtures, and stair railing as a jungle gym.

Their monkey-toed feet have become as dexterous as mine- as can be seen now, as they jump through the air and catch onto the chandelier I reinforced into the ceiling a long time ago, back when I realized this would become a regular past time.

Their powers, too, are much the same as mine, except for the fact that our golden-eyed, blue-haired boys are flame-proof. And I consider that a blessing, considering the pyromania they inherited from their mother.

I now keep our matchbooks in a locked safe because I don't want the house burned down. I tried to hide them in a tall cupboard once, but that's useless when your kids can climb faster than monkeys after a banana.

"Hey, Daddy!" Edward calls out as he bounds by me with his claw-tipped hands held out wide.

I know exactly what he's doing- trying to find the nebulous ball of heat Zoey's hiding as.

"Any luck?"

"No," William pouts. "Daddy, you find her!"

"I won't need to find your mother, son," I chuckle, holding out the flowers as a lure. "She'll come to _me_. Fireflies love flowers."

William scrunches up his nose. "Daddy,  _bumblebees_ like flowers. Fireflies are the bugs that have big glowing butts. Livie says it's so they can get girlfriends."

I sigh.

Olivia, now in her last semester for a degree in journalism at NYU, loves telling the boys little factoids like that just to watch me want to pull my hair out.

She often stops by when she's in town to visit her mother, who remarried four years ago and moved back into the Dubois family home after time had healed her heart. Chloe turned the mansion into a modest bed-and-breakfast, and it's quickly becoming famous for serving the best Sunday brunch in Westchester County.

A warm whisper of air breezes by my face at that moment.

_Ah ha. There's my Pyralis._

I snatch Zoey up just as she regains solidity, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her in while she lets out a playful shriek and giggles.

"But  _this_  firefly can't resist primroses," I say in satisfaction. I lean in and give her a kiss before offering up the flowers.

"Your father's right," Zoey laughs, accepting the blooms and sniffing them delicately. She stands on tiptoe to give me another kiss. "Thank you. How was your day, darling?"

"Fantastic," I reply. "The president- ooph!"

I'm interrupted by William and Edward scampering up my back to perch on my shoulders, saying "eeeew!" and making kissing noises while Soleil giggles.

"You've been spending too much time with Uncle Alex," I mutter disapprovingly.

Marriage to Gwen hasn't raised Alex's maturity level much in that regard, though he's definitely come a long way in others. Sean and I have mostly retired from the X-Men to focus on our families (and in my case, my political career), but Alex has remained at Xavier's to train the next generation of X-Men. Leadership sits surprisingly well on him.

I know Charles and Moira are quite proud of Alex- of _all_ of us, really. The "first class" of X-Men.

"Hey. I can kiss your daddy if I want to," Zoey teases. And then she gives me another.

The oven timer goes off then, so she excuses herself to go check on dinner and put her flowers in water. I carry all three of our children like a pack mule over to the powder room to make sure everyone washes their hands.

Before long all five of us are sitting at the table eating dinner. Zoey and I handle this with well-practiced ease by now, helping the kids manage their silverware.

"What were you saying about the president before, Hank?" Zoey asks.

"He signed the Mutant Rights Act into law today," I reply, grinning.

She knows how hard I've lobbied to get this bill passed. I've fought hard every time challenges to mutant equality came up over the past few years. It's been difficult because there hasn't been much of a legal basis to fall back on when someone discriminated against mutants. We simply weren't protected by an existing law before.

But now we have it: legal equality. It raises my hopes for the future of mutants everywhere.

Zoey beams at me. "Hank, that's amazing!" she crows. "After all the work you've done-  _wow._  I'm so proud of you!"

She reaches out and squeezes my hand fiercely. I can't help grinning back and bringing her hand up to my lips for a kiss.

"What did Daddy do?" Edward asks.

"He helped pass a law that officially makes it illegal for people to discriminate against mutants," Zoey explains.

He still looks puzzled, so I elaborate. "Son, do you remember when Bobby Caldwell's dad ordered your school to put Bobby in a different class from you and your brother because you're mutants?"

Edward nods, frowning.

"Well, now the school doesn't have to listen. They can tell him to chose to send Bobby to a different school or deal with it, because there's nothing wrong with you. There never was, and there never will be."

My son grins then, revealing his little fangs.

Zoey says that all of our children look just like me, but when I look at them I can only see the resemblance to her- their ready smiles, their mischievousness, and the genuinely kind nature that glows around them like a visible aura and first drew me to Zoey like a moth to a flame.

"I'm proud of you too, Daddy."

"Me too!" William adds.

"Me too, me too!" Soleil agrees.

My gaze meets Zoey's as my heart swells with pride. My wife's eyes are shining with happy tears as she gives me a knowing smile.

I have the love and respect of my family- a family I once believed I could never, ever have. What more could a man ask for?

* * *

At the end of the night- after cleaning up from dinner, and family time, and bath time- comes story time. Usually we pile into Soleil's room and read from the book of fairy tales Zoey bought for her "secret admirer" once upon a time, but today it's from the French copy of  _Beauty and the Beast_  I got her on this very day seven years ago.

Marceline, who basically acts as our nanny,  _insisted_  that we teach the children French.

"To hold onto their heritage," she said firmly.

She adores them all, and even though they see  _her_  here at the house almost every day, the kids love to go visit Gra-mere and Papa's because their doting Papa gives them silver dollars and the leftover baked goods from the cafe.

My kids, much like their mother, can't say _"no"_ to sweets.

"Happy anniversary," Zoey says as we step into our room after story time.

The children have been put to bed, and now it's just her and I.

"Can you believe it's been thirteen years? We're getting old," she jokes.

"I might be, but you haven't aged a day," I tell her with heart-felt sincerity. "If anything, you're even more beautiful now."

Zoey laughs and blushes. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Hank."

"That's what I'm hoping," I murmur cheekily, kissing her neck and lightly trailing my claws down her arms. "I love you, Zoey. Always."

And then I sweep her up into my arms and carry her to bed, where her giggles soon become soft moans of pleasure.

After our lovemaking Zoey falls asleep snuggled against my side, but for a while I remain awake, marveling over the past thirteen years.

I've just changed so much. And yet, looking back, I don't regret it at all.

Changing yourself, taking risks and making difficult choices is frightening, but when you have the right motivation you don't even think about that. You just  _do_  it.

And Zoey, my love, she's been my inspiration. She's worth everything I've gone through, every change I made to keep her safe and with me. She stole my heart and in return she's given me a life happier than I could ever imagine.

Without her I would've never come this far. I would've stayed in my lab, empty and alone, and never experienced the joy of true love- and then later, never joined the fight for mutant rights. So in a way, Zoey's love and faith in me has changed the lives of mutants everywhere.

She is, without a doubt, my  _everything_.

On this night, after I've just scored such a victory for equality, I'm more thankful than ever that I found her.

I'm thankful that I took a chance.


	86. Epilogue (Part 2)

**A Fine Summer's Day**

It was a beautiful early summer day in Westchester County, and the little family was enjoying it to the fullest.

The father and twin sons were currently occupied with climbing one of the blossoming magnolia trees in the front yard- ostensibly for the purpose of gathering tree beetles for a science experiment.

That goal had long since been forgotten, though, in the course of the lovely afternoon. Father and sons had devolved into using their dexterous hand-feet and superhuman jumping abilities to swing from branch to branch for the mere thrill of it.

Meanwhile, the mother and daughter sat at the base of the tree on a picnic blanket, laughing as their boys showered them with flowers.

"Hank! Boys!" Zoey called. "Come eat something!"

Hank jumped down easily, landing cat-like on his hand-feet and brushing pollen from his azure blue fur. He smiled at his wife and plopped down on the blanket next to her.

"Sandwiches?" he joked.

Zoey scrunched up her nose in distaste. "You know I never want to see a sandwich again," she laughed. "I had enough white bread to last me a lifetime when I was pregnant. We're having fried chicken and potato salad."

Hank chuckled and kissed her on the cheek.

"Willy! Eddy!" Soleil imperiously called up to her older brothers, who were tarrying in the tree. "Come down here!"

The eleven-year-old twins hopped down to one of the lower branches and swung upside down, gripping the limb with their feet as they dangled like identical blue-haired bats.

"Or what?" Edward teased, while his twin impudently stuck his tongue out at their baby sister.

And then they both laughed and dropped handfuls of magnolia blossoms on Soleil's head.

"Boys," Hank admonished as his daughter pouted. "Apologize to your sister. She's just trying to help you."

Their father, though a seemingly-frightful muscle-bound behemoth of a man (complete with claws and fangs), wasn't much of a disciplinarian thanks to his gentle nature.

Therefore it wasn't his reproach that made the boys quickly apologize- it was the pointed, green-eyed glare their mother silently leveled at them from her spot snuggled under their father's arm that did the trick.

"Sorry, Ley-Ley," Edward said, immediately contrite.

"Sorry, Sissy," William echoed. "But now you look like a fairy princess with the flowers in your hair!"

Soleil looked slightly mollified. "It's ok."

The boys exchanged glances for a moment before Edward leaned over and whispered something to his twin. William nodded his agreement.

"We're not hungry right now," Edward announced. "We'll be back."

And the two of them hopped down to the ground and ran off towards the back yard.

"What were they whispering about?" Zoey wondered aloud, glancing up at her husband. With his sensitive ears he was sure to have heard.

Hank grinned mischievously. "You'll see."

Since the boys were otherwise occupied, the parents and remaining child turned to their lunch. After a few minutes, though, Hank noticed that Soleil was frowning down at her potato salad like it had personally wronged her.

"What's wrong, honey?" he asked. "You ok?"

Soleil didn't answer immediately, though her ears turned red in distress. Her parents waited her out, hoping she would share whatever was bothering her.

"Am I adopted?" she finally blurted out, her pretty little face very troubled as she met their eyes with hers.

Hank and Zoey exchanged alarmed glances, obviously wondering how to reply.

It was something they feared would have to be addressed sooner or later. Their very intelligent eight year old daughter was bound to wonder why she was the only one without any strange abilities in her family, no matter how much they tried to gloss over that fact. She was human, surrounded by a bunch of mutants. No matter how hard they tried, they worried alienation was inevitable.

"Of course you're not," Hank replied cheerfully. "I was there when you came out of Mommy's tummy. You're definitely a piece of both of us."

"Why do you ask, Soleil?" Zoey asked gently.

"I don't have any powers," she mumbled miserably. "Not like you or Daddy or Willy and Eddy. I don't even  _look_  like any of you."

"You've got my eyes," Zoey argued gently. "Actually, you look a lot like your daddy before-"

She glanced at Hank, asking the question with her eyes. He nodded and shifted slightly, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

The picture he pulled out and carefully handed to his daughter was from their wedding, over fifteen years before.

Soleil frowned, looking at the tiny photograph. She recognized her mother immediately, but the man next to her was a stranger. A stranger with the same hair color as her, and the same funny eyebrows...

"Who's that?"

"That's your dad," Zoey replied simply.

"Soleil, you don't have powers because you're human," Hank explained, taking note of her confusion. "It's all just genetics, honey. And to your mother and I, you're  _perfect_ just the way you are. I used to look like that-"

He gestured towards the picture.

"But I never thought I was good enough for anyone and tried to change who I was. I had an accident and ended up like this instead," he continued, pointing to himself. "It took me a  _long_  time to realize that I'm good enough, just being me."

"Really?"

Hank nodded. "Mommy and I never want you to feel like you don't belong in this family, ok?"

"You could have green hair and red eyes and you'd still be our baby girl," Zoey declared. "We wouldn't change anything about you for the world. And we want you to love yourself for who you are, too."

Soleil gave them a tentative smile.

Neither parent was fooled into thinking this would be the last time they had this conversation with her, just as they'd already had to speak to their sons about being mutants a few times.

It was human nature to want to belong. Hank and Zoey could only assure their children that they  _did_ belong, no matter how many times they had to repeat themselves until it stuck.

Just then William and Edward came running back from the other side of the house. As they got closer it became obvious that each of them was carrying several necklaces made of daisies.

"What's this?" Zoey laughed when the boys reached the rest of the family.

"A necklace for everybody," William announced.

He carefully put a necklace on his mother, while Edward did the same to Hank. Each twin was already wearing one of their own.

"And then we made a necklace  _and_  a crown for Sissy," Edward explained.

Soleil beamed at her brothers, who put the flower crown on her head with great ceremony. She loved it when they included her like that.

"Come on, Ley-Ley," William said, pulling her to her feet. "Let's go throw rocks in the pond."

And each boy took their sister by the hand and ran off, making the effort to match their pace with her shorter, human legs as they went to do an activity they could all enjoy together.

"Make sure you don't hit any birds!" Hank called after them. "And don't fall in!"

He grinned down at his wife as she snuggled against his side.

"Our kids are pretty great," he observed, kissing her temple.

"Hmm, yes," she agreed. "I think we've done an ok job so far."

They both laughed at the joke, which they both rather hoped was true.

Then Zoey turned her face up for another kiss, which Hank gladly gave her. "I love you, Hank."

"I love you, Zoey," he replied, holding her close.

And together they sat back and watched their children play, enjoying the warm summer sun.


End file.
